When a Tree Falls
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: In southwestern Montana, a man is found hurt and unable to identify himself. What he knows is locked up in his mind and there are people who are determined to keep him from telling. Tim-centered, multi-chapter. Will post one per day.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story needs a little explanation. I began writing it before season 11 started, but I forgot about Delilah since she hadn't been mentioned much at that point. So there is no Delilah. I also started it right after CdP decided to leave, and so Ellie Bishop is in this, but Ziva is still very much on people's minds. Also, I'm using my personal fanon for Tim's family background rather than the inferior show canon (yes, I think my story for Tim is better). This makes it slightly AU from what the show is, but know that the differences you see are mostly due to when I started writing and pretend that it's still around the middle of season 11, rather than the end of season 12. :)

As of this post, I'm not quite finished writing it. There are 35 chapters so far, and I'm hoping that beginning to post will finally get me to finish it.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS, its characters or the franchise. I'm not making money off of this story. It's completely fiction, although you'll find details about farming that reveal some of my own background. :)

* * *

 **When a Tree Falls  
** by Enthusiastic Fish

 **Chapter 1**

The lights flickered and went out. The hoarse screams that had previously dominated the sound in the room faded to nothing but pained gasps for air.

One of the men in the room looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

"The breakers got tripped again."

The door to the extra room opened and another man joined them.

"He's still not talking. After all this time, we should have got something. Maybe we should change tactics. We can't take the chance that we cause permanent damage before we get what we need."

"Maybe, we should just kill him. No reason to think that he'll give us anything at this point. That will still help."

"He'll have to break sometime. No one is immune. Regardless, we can't do anything more right now. The power's not flowing at all."

"There's supposed to be a big storm coming through. We might not have power, anyway. We lost it for a week two months ago. Had to go old school."

They got the lights back on, but they decided to let their guest rest for a while. They ate dinner and watched as the clouds thickened and darkened. In very little time, it seemed, the rain was pouring down in torrents. A few rumbles of thunder, a couple of lightning flashes and the power went out. They could complain, but they were cautious about getting attention on this place. They'd had their guest for over six months so far. He had been very resistant to their requests for information. Luckily, they weren't in a hurry. Patience was the highest virtue in this situation. They just needed to keep him from revealing their location.

One went in to check on their guest at the height of the storm. The wind was roaring, lashing the rain violently against the windows, and the lightning flashed almost constantly.

The sound covered up the scuffle.

Their guest had been waiting for just this opportunity, although he hadn't really thought about it for a long time. It was more an instinct than a conscious thought.

In moments, the window was broken and their guest was running into the forest. They began to pursue him. They wanted what he could tell them, but given the choice between being discovered and killing their guest, they'd take killing him. It would be the loss of a lot of effort, but if they were found, they'd lose a lot more than effort.

They began firing, but then, they got to a road. He got across the road and a car was coming. Terrible timing. They were forced to stay back in the shelter of the trees. By the time it was safe to move, they couldn't track him. Too much rain. Too dark. Too much wind. Too noisy to hear movements in the trees. Branches were coming down in the forest. They tried to find him, but in the end, they had to give up after an hour of searching. Once the rain stopped and the storm passed, they might be able to find some sign, but they were practical enough to realize that they ran more of a risk of injury and discovery than they did of finding their escaped guest at this point.

They made their way back to the cabin and began to plan their next course of action.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He ran through the trees, trying to figure out where he was and how he was going to get out. He had long since stopped worrying about anything else. It had become hard to remember important things over the time he had been with them. But he had realized that it was better to forget than to remember. Instead of trying to remember, he had tried to forget in the hopes of thwarting them...no matter what they wanted. He didn't even know that at this point.

Now, however, he was struggling to make headway. It didn't matter where he was going. He just needed to get there.

It was so dark.

Suddenly, the ground fell away and he was plunging downward in the darkness.

Before he knew it, he was in water. He tried to get up, but there was a dark mass coming toward him.

The darkness became black.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, _that_ was quite the storm. Do we have anything left or did all the cows get blown to Oz?" Kelly asked.

"The cattle stuck around, but I think that was more because of the fences than because they love us so much," her father, Stephen said with a smile. "You want to check them?"

"I'd love to. You can check the oats and see if they survived that mess."

"When is your brother getting here?"

"Am I my brother's keeper?" Kelly asked.

"Absolutely."

"Well, Suzette is still sick. Paul probably has to get the kids off to school."

"Isn't it summer vacation yet?"

Kelly laughed. "No, Dad. Not yet. You'll have to wait a bit longer for your slave labor."

"Don't fall in the canal."

"Dad, I'm very familiar with the layout of the farm."

"You've been away for a few years. You might have forgotten."

"I haven't. I've also been back for months."

Kelly grabbed her jacket and her boots and headed out to the pasture. A quick glance hadn't revealed any places where the fences had given way to freaked out cattle, but that was no guarantee that they wouldn't find a weakness now, by the light of day.

They had lucked out and avoided any hail, but that didn't mean that they'd avoid any damage at all. As she walked through the pastures, she felt the same mixed feelings about being back on the farm as she always had. It would help if this was something she had chosen, rather than her last resort.

But the cattle didn't care about her ambivalence. They mooed at her as she made her way to the back field.

"You all sound beautiful," she said. "I think you need to work on the harmony, though."

She walked along all the fences and they seemed secure enough. Thank goodness. She hated fixing fence. The barbed wire hated her and she had the scars to prove it. She made a full circuit and then headed for the canal to see how much debris was there. After a spring storm like that, she assumed that there'd be a lot.

She was right, but none of it was completely blocking the flow of the water. Still, she'd probably be assigned to clean it all out. No sense in letting it go down to the check and block the water there. The last thing they needed was a flood because the check got blocked. After all that chaos last night, she wouldn't be surprised if there was flooding from the river downstream.

A large pile of junk was just beside the bank a little ways down. She walked over, thinking that she could pull it out right now and get a head start.

Kelly started to yank at what looked like an entire tree that had come down. She couldn't budge the large branch. It was bigger than she was and nearly as thick.

She found a clump of smaller branches and started clearing them out instead. As she pulled at a large-ish branch, there was something that grabbed at her hand. She let out an undignified scream and dropped the branch.

What she heard next wasn't what she expected.

"...h-help..."

She hesitated and then moved back down to the branch. She pulled at it again and caught a glimpse of...a person. She swore and pulled out her cell phone.

"Dad, get down to the canal just above the third check."

" _Why? A break in the fence? Did the cows get out?"_

"No. There's a man stuck in some debris in the canal."

" _A man? Alive, you mean?"_

"Yeah. I can't get him out on my own unless I can loosen the junk. I'm going to try."

" _On my way."_

Kelly hung up and bent over. She tried to pull off some of the branches before her dad got there.

"I'm right here. We'll get you out of there. Don't worry."

She grabbed at a branch and gave it strong pull. It came loose, and she was treated to her first view of the man...

...as the entire clump of debris began to drift apart and float downstream to the check, taking the man along with it.

"Oh, crap."

The man's eyes were closed and he didn't seem conscious of the fact that he was now in water, where before, he'd mostly just been enclosed in tree branches.

Kelly took off her boots and waded out into the canal, cursing the freezing cold water, and managed to snag the man's foot before he floated away or sank.

"I've got you," she said.

She pulled him to the bank and out of the water. He was shivering now.

"Sir?" she asked.

He was so covered with debris and mud that she couldn't even tell how old he was.

"Sir?"

He groaned and his eyes opened for just a moment.

"Don't...let them...find...me..." he whispered.

"Who?"

His eyes closed again and he continued to shake. Kelly didn't want to move him until her dad got there, just in case there were more serious injuries to worry about than what she could see. As she waited, she looked upstream.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Where did you come from?"

He didn't answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Stephen got there only a few minutes later in the pickup. Kelly waved him over to the bank.

"I've got him, but I didn't want to move him too much."

"The bridge over the road to town is out. Washed out in the storm. Paul's coming on horseback, but we're not getting an ambulance up here."

Kelly looked at the man again.

"I don't know... Dad, either he's delirious or someone is after him."

"Someone?"

"He wasn't specific. Maybe we should wait to call anyone official up here."

Stephen raised an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that, Dad."

"Let's get him back to the house, at least."

Kelly nodded. They knelt down together beside the man. Stephen checked him carefully. The chill was still making the man shake, but his eyes didn't open again.

"No broken bones that I can find, amazingly enough, but let's be careful when we move him. Support his neck."

Carefully, they picked the man up and put him in the bed of the pickup. Kelly sat beside him and made sure he wasn't jolted too much as Stephen drove them home.

"Dad, what's up?"

Kelly looked away from their passenger and saw her older brother. It was a relief. Paul always seemed to know what to do. He had a very calm and practical personality.

"Paul, I found a man in the canal, tangled in some debris."

Paul's eyes widened in surprise. "Is he all right?"

"Unconscious, cold, but he's still alive and Dad doesn't think he broke anything."

Stephen got out of the pickup.

"Kelly, go get your mother and have her set up the spare room downstairs. We want to move him as little as possible."

Kelly nodded and jumped out of the pickup. She hurried into the house, calling for her mother.

"What is it, Kelly?" Marilyn asked. "That man your father mentioned?"

Kelly nodded.

"Yeah, he's pretty bad. Dad and Paul are bringing him in. Dad said to put him in the spare room."

Marilyn put her laundry basket down and headed to the bedroom, but her brow furrowed.

"With the bridge out, the ambulance can't get here, but surely we could still get someone here to help him to a hospital."

"I'm not sure we should take him to a hospital...unless you think he's hurt too badly."

"Why not?"

"He said someone was after him."

"Kelly."

"Mom, just until he can wake up and tell us what he meant. If someone is after him, we might put him in danger by making an official report."

"And if he's badly hurt, we could be risking his life by keeping him in the house."

"I'll bow to your greater expertise. If you think he should be in a hospital, we'll try to get him there."

"Good. For now, let's turn down the bed. If he was in the canal, he's probably close to hypothermic."

"I'm sure he is. He was shaking."

"Are you ready back there?"

"Come on back, Stephen!" Marilyn called.

In moments, Paul and Stephen brought the man to the bed.

"Well, he's a mess. I don't want to try and put him in the bathtub until I know how bad he's hurt, but... Kelly, go get my kit and, Paul, fill the mop bucket with warm soapy water...and get some of the rice heaters in the microwave. We'll do what we can without moving him."

Kelly hurried and got her mother's kit. It was not just any first aid kit. Marilyn had been trained as a nurse, declaring that it was a necessity when they were so far away from other people and when there was no guarantee that they wouldn't be cut off from town. She kept it fully stocked and rotated out the bandages and such as necessary.

"Kelly, help me get his clothes off."

And then, Kelly felt extremely uncomfortable. It must have shown in her face because her mother laughed.

"We're not going to strip him naked unless we have to, but these clothes are dirty and in pretty poor shape. We might as well start him off as clean as we can."

Kelly flushed and helped Marilyn cut the ragged shirt off him. It'd had a logo on it once upon a time, but only the barest outline showed up now. Nothing to tell them what it had been before. It was when they got the shirt off that the first suggestion of something strange really hit them.

"What are those marks?" Kelly asked, pointing to a number of small scars. "They're all over his chest."

"Help me lift him," Marilyn said.

Paul brought the water into the room, as well as the rice heaters, and helped raise the unconscious man up.

"There are even more on his back...and look at all the bruises. He must have had a bad time in the river."

Marilyn's expressed was troubled.

"Those aren't the kinds of bruises I'd expect from a rough ride in the river. Some of them, yes, but not all of them. Lay him back down, Paul. Gently."

They lowered the man back to the bed.

"Paul...go get your father. Now."

"What is it, Mom?"

"Maybe nothing. Maybe...something."

Kelly watched as Marilyn continued to clean the man up. The more grime and muck she cleaned off him, the younger he looked...but also the more gaunt he looked.

"What is it, Lyn?" Stephen asked.

"Look at these marks on his body," Marilyn said. "What do those look like to you?"

Stephen came to the bed and looked closely at the marks on the man's chest.

"Looks...almost like a cattle prod...doesn't it," Marilyn said softly.

Stephen stared at the marks for a long moment and then rolled up his shirt sleeve, exposing two marks on his bicep, a bit larger than those on the man's body, older but similar.

"They're all over him," Kelly said. "You're saying that...that someone..."

Paul let out a startled exclamation.

"Yeah," Stephen agreed.

"He asked to not let them find him. Maybe this is what he means."

"But who is he?" Paul asked. "Why would he have those marks? That's got to be torture."

"Maybe it was," Stephen said.

"Here?" Paul asked. "Come on! We're in Montana, not a war zone. Why would anyone do that?"

Stephen looked at Kelly.

"We'll keep him here until he can tell us what happened or where he wants to go. Maybe he's a criminal. Maybe he's a victim. Either way, we'll give him a chance before we call anyone."

"Okay."

"Paul? Don't tell anyone in town about him. Got it?"

"Absolutely. I'll let Suzette know, but only in private."

"Good. Then, we'll get him cleaned up and treated as best we can. Let him wake up someplace safe and see what happens then."

They all looked at the man lying so limply on the bed. Bruises, possible electrical burns...and he'd been found in the canal after the worst spring storm in years. What had happened to him?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Their unexpected guest was sleeping all through the morning. They kept the door ajar and an ear out for when he might wake up, but otherwise, there was a lot that needed doing on the farm, the day after a big storm. The yard was a mess. The chickens were more flighty than usual. The garden had been flattened, although it was early enough in the year that they had only recently planted it. Very little had been coming up yet. It was the winter wheat and the oats that was worrying. Alfalfa would survive fine.

Marilyn checked in on their guest off and on all morning but he never stirred.

Then, in the afternoon, she heard the click of a lock turning and she looked. The door to the spare room was now closed tightly.

She got the key and opened the door.

"Stay back! Stay where you are!"

The voice was _not_ coming from the bed. It was coming from the corner. The man was awake, standing in the corner...and brandishing the lamp from the bedside table like it was a weapon.

"Stephen!" Marilyn called quickly, hoping he was close by.

"Stay away from me!"

"I'm not going to hurt you, son. I promise. We've been trying to _help_ you."

He looked terrified.

"Right. Yeah, right."

He was breathing heavily and staring around the room like a trapped animal...and trapped animals were dangerous. You never knew what they'd do to get free. It was as possible that he'd attack her as anything else. She kept her hands out and visible, as unthreatening as she could be.

"It's okay. You're safe here."

Marilyn heard the door slam and running feet. She looked back and saw Stephen. He'd heard her. As soon as he came into view, the man raised the lamp more threateningly.

"Stay back."

"We're not coming near you, son," Stephen said. "Just calm down. There's no need to panic, no need to be afraid. We're not going to hurt you."

"What am I doing here? Why am I here?" he asked, not relaxing at all. "What do you want from me?"

"We don't want anything from you. We found you in our canal," Stephen said, keeping his voice unconcerned, although Marilyn could read him well enough to know that he was surprised and almost insulted by the reaction to their help.

"What are you talking about? I don't know what you mean."

"You were floating down the canal. My daughter found you and pulled you out. It's not very nice of you to threaten the people who saved you. After all, we haven't given you any reason to not trust us."

He stilled seemed distrustful.

"Where...Where am I?" he asked. "What is this place?"

"You're on our farm. Our little piece of heaven. In southwestern Montana."

"Montana?"

"Yes."

He looked very disturbed.

"You didn't expect that?" Marilyn asked.

He didn't answer her. Instead, he looked around again, seeming more afraid than he had before, less threatening.

"Are you going to attack us?" Stephen asked. "Are you going to hurt us when we haven't done anything like that to you?"

The man lowered the lamp slightly. He wasn't quite accepting what they said, but there was less menace to his stance. He still seemed more afraid than anything.

"Who did all that to you?" Stephen asked.

"All what?" he asked.

The man looked down at himself, the marks and the bruises, and then up at the two of them, shock apparent on his face.

"What happened?" Marilyn asked gently.

"Who's after you?" Stephen added. "Are you on the run?"

Every question made him look more and more afraid. He was shaking again. The lamp slipped from his hand and broke into pieces on the floor. He slid down the wall and sat down with a thump, his shaking hands covering his mouth. Marilyn started to walk forward, but Stephen held her back. He walked over to the young man and knelt down in front of him.

"What's your name, son?"

The man looked at him. He was silent for a few tense seconds and then he exhaled loudly.

"I don't know. I don't know! Who am I?"

He stared at them in fright for a few minutes. Then, his eyes closed and he seemed to pass out again. Stephen checked him and then gestured to Marilyn. She hurried over and checked his pulse, his temperature. He had gone limp again and it took some maneuvering to get him back onto the bed.

"What do you think?" Stephen asked.

"That was no act," Marilyn said. "If it was, he deserves an Oscar. He doesn't know. So...now, we have another decision to make. What do we do? Amnesia...that's a whole different ball game. He couldn't tell us what happened. He couldn't tell us who is after him. He couldn't even tell us his name! If he doesn't get his memory back, we can't say whether he's someone we should be helping or not."

"Kelly wants to help him."

"She's predisposed to that, but he was dangerous when he woke up just now. He was ready to attack us."

"But he didn't attack."

Marilyn looked at their unknown guest again. She could see that Stephen had been won over, just like Kelly. Like two peas in a pod, those two. She was more nervous.

"Do you think you could persuade Jeff to come home for the summer? Classes will be almost over for him. We could use his help on the farm anyway, and it's been a long time since he was home last."

"And he'd be another body that we could have watching him?"

"If we're not going to take him to town, then, I'd feel safer. Paul can't be here all the time. He's got a family of his own, and I'd rather not have Kelly be the only one here."

"I'll ask him, but I think we should wait to make any decisions until he wakes up again. If he still doesn't remember but is in his right mind, we can talk to him about things. If he remembers, it may be a moot point."

Marilyn nodded. Something about the way he'd been standing. It hadn't been an empty threat. He was ready to defend himself, and if they couldn't get through to him, that made him dangerous.

...but at the same time, looking at him asleep on the bed, his bare chest covered in bruises and those horrible electrical burns, she couldn't help but feel a rush of pity for him. If he really couldn't remember who he was, then, he would feel completely lost.

Stephen was right. They had to give him a chance.

Their guest slept the rest of the day without waking. Paul agreed to stay the night after talking with Suzette, and Kelly volunteered to call Jeff and persuade him to come for an extended visit at least.

All was settled, but the only person who slept well that night was the man in their spare room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

He woke up when the light was dim outside. Headed toward morning but not quite there yet. His head ached. His body ached and, as he got closer to consciousness, he remembered what had happened before...whenever that was. ...but nothing else. Nothing else about himself or why he was here.

"Who am I?" he whispered.

"Are you awake?"

He started and winced at the movement. He looked over and saw a woman, probably in her thirties. She wasn't the woman he'd seen before. She was younger. Her expression was a bit guarded but she also looked concerned.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Awful."

She smiled. "I'd expect that, since you at least were stuck in the canal for who knows how long."

"At least," he repeated and felt a curl of panic at the reminder that he didn't remember anything.

"You don't remember anything, still?"

"No. No, I don't remember! I don't!"

"It's all right," she said. "It'll come later, I'm sure."

"Are you? Why?"

"Just a feeling. My name is Kelly Hoopes. You're at my parents' home in southern Montana. We have a farm out here. Cattle, wheat, some alfalfa. If you're needing isolation, this is a good place for it. We're at least 30 miles from the nearest town. We're effectively in the middle of nowhere."

"Montana," he said. The disturbing thing was that he had no idea if that was where he should be or not.

"Where did you think you were?" Kelly asked.

"I don't know. I really don't know." Again, the panic threatened to overwhelm him.

"It's all right. We'll figure it out."

"There were...two other people...I saw...before."

"My parents. You took Mom by surprise."

He felt a strong surge of shame and dropped his head.

"I'm sorry."

"If you had hurt them, you wouldn't still be here, but as it is, I can understand not knowing what to do."

"I guess." He looked around the room. There was a feeling of being totally adrift, as if he was dangling over the edge of a cliff, wondering how long it would take before he plummeted to his death. He closed his eyes and tried to bring _something_ of his past to his mind...but there was nothing. Nothing at all. He couldn't even think of what he looked like.

A hand on his arm startled him and he pulled back in a panic that he couldn't explain.

"It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you."

He opened his eyes and looked at Kelly again.

"I'm...I'm sorry. I... I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

He swallowed and tried to rein in his fear.

"So...what happens now?"

"Are you hungry?" Kelly asked.

"I think so," he said. It was strange, but he wasn't even sure about that.

"You don't know?"

"I feel like...I haven't been...eating a lot, lately," he said softly. "I don't know...maybe I'm wrong. I don't...really..."

"Well, you look skinny enough. I'll tell Mom you're up. If you want, you can wear some of Dad's clothes. You're about the same height, but he's a lot bigger than you; so I'd use the belt."

He nodded uncertainly and watched as she left the room. He uncovered himself and looked at his arms and legs and chest.

He was horrified. There were burns all over and bruises. Some older scars, but somehow, he knew that they were all fairly recent.

"What happened to me?" he asked the empty room.

There was no answer and he couldn't explain it to himself, but it was horrible to look at himself and know that this was his own body. The panic started to surge up in his stomach and he had to take a number of deep breaths to keep from freaking out.

He carefully edged himself to the side of the bed, groaning as he tensed bruised muscles. Then, he picked up the clothes someone (Kelly?) had put on a chair. Another deep breath and he pulled on the pants that were at least two sizes too big and the shirt that almost drowned him. He rolled up the sleeves and buttoned up the plaid shirt, covering up those disturbing marks.

Then, he carefully got to his feet and walked to the door. He stopped there and hesitated, feeling afraid of seeing what was on the other side of it. Kelly had said Montana, but that brought absolutely no images to his mind. He didn't know if that meant he'd never been to Montana or if it was just another thing he didn't remember.

 _Am I from Montana?_

He steeled himself to open the door, unsure if his fear was due to more than just his lack of memory.

He turned the knob and stepped out.

"H-Hello?" he asked, tentatively.

His whole body ached and he wanted nothing more than to lie down on the bed again, but he also wasn't sure if he was really hungry or not. If he was, he should probably eat something.

There were some sounds to his left and so he limped in that direction.

Suddenly, he was in a large, open kitchen, staring at the woman he'd threatened the night before...and the one named Kelly.

"I'm sorry," he said, wanting to get that out right away. "I shouldn't have...have threatened you. Did I break the lamp?"

The woman smiled at him.

"Yes, you did, but it was old and ugly anyway. I'm Marilyn."

She wiped her hands on a towel and held one out. He flinched a little bit, but he didn't know why. Then, he forced a weak smile and shook her hand.

"I don't know who I am. Sorry."

"That's all right. Come and have a seat. Since you look like you need feeding, but I don't know what you've eaten in the past, I decided to keep it simple to start. Then, we can get more in you when we know what you can handle."

"Okay." He didn't know what else to say. He limped to the table and sat down with relief at not having to move again.

He had said he didn't know if he was hungry or not, but when Marilyn put the small bowl of...whatever it was, he smelled it and he was suddenly starving. Now, he knew he was hungry. He ignored the spoon by the bowl and took a handful of it and shoveled it into his mouth. It was quickly followed by a second handful.

"Whoa, slow down there, son."

The new voice startled him and he flinched away from the shape he saw to the side of him. He pulled his hands away from the bowl, hunching his shoulders, waiting for...

What was he waiting for? Punishment. But why?

Kelly was suddenly in front of him, smiling, although her eyes looked sad.

"Here, let me clean off your hands and you can eat a little more slowly, with a spoon. Okay?"

He swallowed the food in his mouth and ached to eat more, but he nodded. Kelly took a towel and wiped the glop off his hands. He looked to the side and saw the older man he'd seen before.

"I'm sorry," he said thickly. Whatever he'd eaten seemed to have left a film in his mouth. It made it harder to talk.

"It's all right, son. I just don't think your stomach will want to be inundated like that. I'm Stephen."

"He still doesn't remember, Dad," Kelly said.

Stephen sat down by him as Kelly let his hands go. He felt very self-conscious with all these people staring at him, and he was afraid, although he couldn't say why. They seemed very nice. He hesitated and then picked up the spoon. He slowly put it into the bowl and then lifted the food to his mouth. The whole time, he was expecting some kind of punishment. He was expecting pain. He just didn't know why.

"Well, I think we can leave our chat for later. It's obvious that you need to eat more than you need to talk. My son, Paul, had to get back to his family in town, and until they get the bridge fixed, that means a long horse ride. He'll be back later. My other son, Jeff, will be coming in a few days, if you want to stay here that long. You might see a few workers out in the fields, but no one here is going to hurt you. All right?"

He nodded, although he couldn't get rid of that feeling of terror. Stephen just smiled at him and got up.

"Kelly, you hang out here today, all right?"

"Sure, Dad."

He took another spoonful and another, unable to relax with these people around him. When Stephen left, he managed to lose a small fraction of his tension, but still, he wasn't sure about being around people. He felt at a complete disadvantage.

Finally, Kelly stood up and left him at the table. He kept eating until the bowl was empty. He was still hungry, but he didn't dare ask for more. Actually, he didn't dare ask for anything. He had no idea what to do now. He couldn't figure out why these people were helping him. ...and he didn't know why he needed help in the first place.

Another hand on his shoulder. He was startled. The hand vanished. Kelly came around to face him again.

"Would you like to clean up or go back to bed?"

What he wanted was more food...but he didn't dare ask. Still, he couldn't keep his eyes from staring at the empty bowl. She followed his gaze and grinned.

"I think he's still hungry, Mom."

Marilyn came over and leaned on the table.

"Are you still hungry?"

He nodded, hesitantly.

"Well, it's not good to put too much food into a stomach that hasn't had enough for a while, however long it's been. So, how about this? You go and take a hot bath. It will be good for your muscles. If you're still feeling like you could eat more, I'll make you something more after that. Okay?"

A bath. That didn't sound like a bad thing. As long as it was really a bath and not something else. What else he was afraid of it being, he didn't know.

"Okay."

Marilyn smiled and led him to a bathroom with a deep, clawfoot tub.

"We thought about getting a new tub when we did the renovations, but the tub wouldn't fit out the door and we would have had to destroy it to get it out. That felt wrong. So we kept it."

He nodded.

"Those clothes really are going to fall off you. I'll see if I can find something a little smaller. My husband used to have less of a gut than he has now. We might still have some of his older things. I'll check. Don't fall asleep in the bathtub. I'm going to leave the door ajar just so that we can check on you if we need to. All right?"

He nodded again.

"Have at it, then."

She left him alone. Alone, he let out a loud exhale. He only knew that people scared him, physical contact scared him, but he didn't know why. Still, he turned on the water in the tub and stripped naked. He watched the water fill the tub, the steam rising gently. He got in and it felt really good. He started to relax in the hot water. He didn't care about getting clean. He just wanted to be in the water. He let out a long sigh of relief and closed his eyes.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They tracked their escaped guest's path through the forest until they got to the river. It was slow going, but they knew what to look for and his general trajectory.

"He went in the water."

"Alive or dead?"

"With that drop? Probably dead."

"But we can't know for sure unless we find the body."

"We don't want to be found with a dead body."

"After that storm, it would be expected that someone might have been caught in it and died, especially someone from outside the area who didn't know how to deal with the elements."

"But we don't know if he's dead."

"What do you want to do? If he'd been found, we would have seen something. That would have made the news."

"Unless NCIS found him. They know we wanted _something_ from him. They might not want to advertise that he's been found."

"If that's the case, we don't have a chance to get him back. But if he's still out there somewhere..."

They looked up and down the river. It was clear that he'd gone into the river at some point, but how long he'd stayed in the river was another question. In the end, they decided to do some searching downstream and if they found nothing, they'd start listening for any sign of a body being found in the forest or in the river.

He'd given them nothing in the six months they'd had him. After the first few months, it was almost like he didn't know what they were even asking him for. They still couldn't figure out how he'd been able to resist for so long.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Marilyn and Kelly sat down in the living room. Marilyn had checked on the man once, and although his eyes had been closed, he didn't seem to be asleep. He was too tense to be sleeping.

"He's afraid," Kelly said. "Did you notice how scared he was of people touching him?"

Marilyn nodded.

"If we let him stay here until he remembers what happened, we're going to have to try and help him adjust to being safe."

"If?"

"Kelly, I know you don't trust authority figures. Your father doesn't, either, but not everyone in law enforcement is out to get you. ...and you know very well that the police in town are good people. Hank is one of the deputies. You've known him since you were a child."

"We don't know what happened to him or who did all those things to him. Unless he _wants_ to leave, I think we should let him stay."

"We don't know who he is. _He_ doesn't know who he is. What if he's a criminal?"

"Don't convict someone without a fair trial."

"Don't see yourself in him, Kelly. Even if he is a victim, he's not very likely to be in the same situation as you were."

Kelly sighed. "I know, but I want to give him a chance, Mom. I know it's a weird situation, and I know you're not really happy about it."

"I don't _mind_ doing this, but I want you to go in with your eyes wide open about what this might end up being. ...and about the problems he might have. Those marks...Paul didn't seem to realize how accurate he probably was. You don't have burns like that on accident. Not that many. Someone was doing that to him. Someone was _trying_ to cause him pain and it didn't happen just once. Some of those injuries are weeks, if not months old. Some are new. Even if he's not remembering it consciously, there's clearly something in him that remembers he's been at the mercy of people who wanted to hurt him. Whatever is going on...it's bigger than us, and we could be swept up in it. Your father knows how that can happen. He has a scar of his own."

Kelly was silent.

"But if he wants to hide here for a while, we'll let him and we'll treat him right."

"Okay."

"Good. Now, I'm going to go check on him again. I don't want him to drown in the bathtub. You go into the kitchen and make some more cream of wheat. He seemed to enjoy it."

"He was so...desperate to eat...and so afraid that we'd hurt him for doing it. It was almost funny, but...not."

"Be ready for things like that. I think that we'll see a lot more of it before we see less."

"I hear you, Mom."

Kelly went into the kitchen and pulled out the cream of wheat. It was something she'd never liked, and even though her parents did, it wasn't because it was the height of cuisine. To see someone so desperate to eat that he was shoveling it into his mouth at high speed...it was almost painful. She would make sure he got the chance he needed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you asleep?"

The voice penetrated the pleasant fog and brought him back to the fear of his lack memory. He sat up in the tub and looked around for danger.

"I'm sorry I startled you."

He looked toward the door.

"Marilyn," he said, just to assure himself that he could remember things now, even if the past was closed to him.

"Exactly. Are you ready to eat some more?"

He almost bolted out of the tub at the idea of eating again, but he managed to restrain himself.

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll let you get out of the tub. Just come back to the kitchen when you're ready."

He waited only until she left. He was out of the tub before the door was fully closed. He still ached, but his stomach was demanding food. He dressed as quickly as he could and then came out of the bathroom and went to the kitchen.

"You didn't waste any time," Kelly said.

He just stared at the pot she had on the stove. He watched as she ladled some of the stuff into a bowl. He still didn't know what it was. He didn't care. It was food.

"Use your spoon," Kelly said.

"Okay."

The bowl was on the table along with a glass of juice and he ate the meal without looking at his hosts. Then, feeling extremely daring, he looked at them.

"More? Please?"

Marilyn smiled. "In another hour or so. You'll be much happier if you take it slow and don't overdo it."

"Okay." He tried to think of what else he should say. "Could I sleep?"

"Of course. You know where the room is?"

He nodded and limped his way back to the room he'd awakened in. The bedding had been changed. The broken lamp was gone. He took just enough time to notice that and then he got into the bed and slept.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Hunger drove him from sleep. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he knew he was hungry. He got out of bed and walked to the door. Still aching, still worried and afraid, but hunger was keeping him moving.

"Up again?"

He jumped and spun around to confront the voice.

It was Stephen.

"Sorry. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, Lyn asked me to take on the task of feeding you when you woke up next."

He looked around. The light was almost absent.

"How long did I sleep?"

"It's been a few hours. Come on."

He was more than willing to follow Stephen to the kitchen. There was a pot on the stove. He didn't care what was in it.

"My wife made some soup to give you variety. It's just chicken and noodle, but it'll give you more than you were getting from the cream of wheat."

"Cream of wheat?"

"Yeah. That's what you were eating before. You didn't notice?"

"No."

"Then, you must have been hungry. Never could get our kids to like it. Have a seat."

He sat down at the table and waited until a bowl of soup was set down in front of him. As before, he barely noticed the taste, but he did notice that he had to chew a bit. That slowed him down. He flinched a little when Stephen sat down at the table with him, but he didn't say anything. He just focused on eating. He did have the vague notion that what he was eating tasted good, but that was less important than getting it into his stomach. He noticed a glass of milk had appeared in front of him and he drank it all. When he was done, he realized that he didn't feel quite so hungry as he had before.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"My pleasure."

Then, something that he hadn't noticed before pinged on his brain.

"No one has been eating when I've been eating. Why not?"

"Well, it's nearly ten p.m. Everyone else is in bed. You were up this morning after we'd had breakfast and then, we don't usually have a regular lunch. Lyn figured you should eat when you were hungry and not be forced to wait. At least, for now."

He nodded.

"You up to having a conversation, now?"

He nodded again.

"Okay. Let's go into the living room. It's more comfortable in there."

He nodded and followed Stephen. He sat down on the couch. It was very comfortable. He wished he could relax.

"All right. I have two questions. I'll start with the second most important."

"Okay."

"Do you want to stay here or go to the hospital?"

"Uh..."

That was a decision he hadn't even considered. This was all he remembered.

"Let me lay everything out for you," Stephen said, leaning forward. He was serious but not rude about it. "I don't like being beholden to anyone. I pay my taxes as I have to and on the rare occasion that we've had serious injuries, we've gone to the hospital. Otherwise, I want people to leave me alone and I'll leave them alone. It's that simple. I'm a friendly man and I like talking to people. They just need to respect my preferences."

"Okay?"

Stephen smiled. "If we take you to the hospital, call the police and all that, they'll put your picture out for people to see. Probably, someone who knows you will find you. The problem that I see is that it's pretty obvious that someone has been hurting you for quite some time. I don't know if they'll find you first or if the family and friends you probably have will find you first. If the right people find you, you'll be fine."

"Am I missing?" he asked.

"Paul checked that out, but he didn't find any missing persons reports for someone looking like you."

"No one is looking for me?" he asked, feeling more alone than ever.

"I don't know. If you've been gone for a long enough time, maybe they were and they've assumed you're dead."

He stared at the floor.

"So, you could find your family and friends...or you could find whoever did this to you, and I don't know if you'll recognize them for who they are."

He swallowed and let out a quick exhalation.

"The other option is that you stay here until you remember what happened or until you're all better and able to deal with whatever might happen."

He looked up.

"Why would you help me? All I did was threaten you with a lamp. I heard someone talking earlier. They said that I might be a criminal. It's true. I don't know if I am or not. You could be helping someone...horrible."

Stephen shook his head. "I don't think so. I believe that who you are is more than just what you remember. You're someone who felt terrible about what you did and you acted out of complete fear. Since then, you've expressed remorse for that...and what happened to you must have been terrible because you remember something. At least your body does because you've been afraid of all of us."

"I don't know why I'm afraid."

"You don't have to right now. That's okay. Do you want to stay or go?"

"For how long?"

"As long as you need to. We have the space, and when you're feeling better, I might put you to work on the farm. Hopefully, you'll remember who you are, and when that happens, we'll send you off to wherever you need to go."

He thought about it. As far as he was concerned, this place was the only safe place in the world because there was no other place he knew. ...and really, all he knew of this place was the house.

Stephen didn't push him and he thought about it for a few minutes.

"I can stay here?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'd...like to stay...for now, if that's all right."

"It's all right."

"Okay."

He took a deep breath and looked around.

"Now, for the most important question."

"That wasn't the most important?"

"Nope. Most important is what we're going to call you. We can't just call you 'sir' or 'son' or 'hey, you' or something. You need a name."

"I don't know my name."

"I remember that. So...you can pick one."

"I...don't know...what to pick."

Stephen chuckled a little.

"Well, how about the stereotypical John Doe? Think you could learn to answer to that?"

"It might...take some time."

"Does it feel right?"

"No...but it doesn't feel wrong, either, except that it's probably not likely that it'll be my name, is it?"

"True. Are you all right with John Doe?"

"I guess so."

"All right, then, John. It's pretty late. We get up early on the farm. Are you tired?"

"I think so."

"If you wake up in the night and you're hungry, you can go and get something in the kitchen, but don't overdo it."

John (that didn't feel right at all) got up and walked back to the bedroom. Instead of sleeping, though, he sat down on the bed.

"John. John. John. No. That's not my name. ...but what _is_ it? Who am I?"

There was no answer from the room around him or from his own mind.

The more disturbing thought he couldn't avoid was that no one seemed to have missed him. If someone was looking for him, wouldn't there be a record of it somewhere? No matter _how_ long he'd been missing?

Did no one really care about him?

That was really sad. Could he really be that isolated and alone? He was awake for a long time thinking about it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We haven't heard anything from them in weeks, Boss," Tony said. "Does that mean he's dead or they're getting whatever it is they want? Or...I don't even know! Maybe we could start again...looking, I mean."

Gibbs looked up from his boat. Tony had taken to showing up late at night just to talk about it. Since Tim was officially _not_ missing, and they had learned their lesson about that...very painfully, no one talked about it at work. It was risky if the wrong people heard about it, especially since they didn't know who the wrong people were.

"What are we going to do? I don't want to see him screaming like that again...but how are we going to find him if we're not even allowed to _look_?"

The problem was that they didn't even know why it was Tim who had been taken. They didn't know who it was or what they wanted...only that they likely wanted something. There had been periodic communications from Tim's captors, whoever they were. Vance had called in favors at the beginning, but nothing had come of them.

"They must want him for some computer thing, right? I mean, why else target McGee over anyone else?"

They had thought they were on to them once. They had found a place in Maryland that had seemed to be the base of operations, but all they found when they got there was a flash drive. A warning to stay away. The video on that flash drive...

"That parrilla. I'd heard about them before but..."

What more was there to say about that? Just the word brought the video to mind. Tim's screams of agony that went on for far too long.

"Abby keeps looking at it. Over and over again. She never finds anything. No one is perfect, but we haven't found anything yet."

Tony was saying nothing new. He hadn't for weeks, but it didn't stop him from coming and saying it. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ellie to keep quiet about it, but she was too new.

"Boss, what do we do? I can't keep sitting here, doing nothing! ...but I don't know what to do!"

Gibbs finally put down the lathe and walked over to his stash of bourbon. He poured a couple of jars of it and gave one to Tony.

"We keep trying. Quietly," he said. "That's all we _can_ do."

"And if that's not enough?"

"Then, nothing would be and he's already dead."

Tony sighed and took a drink. Not enough to get drunk, of course. He couldn't think about Tim's captivity if he was nursing a hangover.

After a few minutes of silent drinking, he left. Gibbs stared at the boat. He'd made very little progress. Too many other things to think about.

Most of all was the question of where Tim could possibly be...if he were still alive. There were just too many possibilities.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly woke up a little later in the morning than usual, but she had stayed up for a good part of the night before watching their guest. She got ready for the day and then headed downstairs. When she got to the living room, the man was staring at himself in the mirror, touching his own face. He didn't notice her.

"I have green eyes," he said softly. "My eyes are green."

He reached out and touched the mirror and then touched his own face, almost as if he were seeing it for the first time. He rubbed his hand over the skiff of hair on his head and the rough, patchy growth on his face. He had a black eye and a large bruise on his cheek that could be explained by whatever had put him in the canal.

"It's like looking at a stranger," he said to himself. "Who are you?"

It was really sad to see him like that. She cleared her throat.

"Good morning."

He was startled. Kelly hoped that his fear would ebb as he had more time being safe.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked. "Physically."

"A little. I still hurt but not as bad as I was...before." He looked back at the mirror. "I don't recognize myself in the mirror. I was looking at my reflection and I know it's mine because it moves when I do, but I don't see myself. I just see a reflection! And now, I've been given a name, but I know it's not mine!"

"A name?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Last night. Your dad said that if I was staying, I needed to have something you could call me."

"You're staying, then?"

He nodded again.

"And I couldn't think of anything to call myself. So he said John Doe, and that's as good as anything, but it's not my name! It's not my name! I don't dare leave here because it's the only place that even exists in my mind. There's nothing else there...except for a feeling that really bad things have happened to me. ...and I don't know what to do. What if I'm a horrible person? What if I'm a criminal? What if I deserve all these bruises and burns?" He looked at her. "There are so many questions in my head. I feel like I'm going to drown in them. ...but the worst is...why isn't anyone looking for me?"

"Maybe someone is."

"Stephen said there was no report. No one reported me missing."

"Maybe someone is looking for you without reporting it."

"But why?"

"I don't know. I wish I could do something for you to help," Kelly said. "I wish I could answer your questions, tell you who you are, but I can't. I don't know. I really don't."

He sighed. "I know. I can accept that you all are...are what you seem to be because...because I can't imagine that you'd pretend when you could just..." He lifted the shirt he was wearing. "...someone has already done that to me. Whoever it was didn't care about how much it hurt."

Kelly nodded.

"I'm sorry for what's happened to you."

"You didn't do it," he said...John said. "And you saved me."

She smiled. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes, but I could eat more," he said, almost normally, but then, he looked worried. "If that's all right."

"I'll let Mom make that decision, but _I_ don't care."

There was a tentative smile, and she was glad to see it. It transformed his face, made him seem older, less afraid. They walked to the kitchen.

Marilyn was at the stove. There was a huge pot on the stove. She looked up as they came in.

"Good morning, Kelly. You've slept the day away."

Kelly laughed. "It's only nine. I have three hours before it's half over."

"Semantics," Marilyn said. "You want something for breakfast? Your father is already out on the farm."

"That doesn't surprise me at all. I'd be happy with some oatmeal if you could spare the burner."

"I'm only using the one for soup."

"How many are you planning on feeding?"

"We have our weekly meal with all the workers, our regulars and the ones we hire as we need them. That's twenty if they all come. They may not, but if they do, I want to be sure they're all fed well."

"Oh, I forgot about that." She looked at John who tensed up.

"Don't worry. It'll be out in the shed like usual. If you stay in here, no one will see you. We're not telling anyone about you. Oh, and Paul is going to be bringing you some clothes today."

"From where?" John asked.

"From a store."

"You're buying me clothes?"

"You can't keep wearing Stephen's clothes. They're much too big for you and I couldn't find any of his old stuff. So, since you don't have any clothes of your own, we decided to guess on your sizes and buy you some things."

"Wow. Thank you," John said. "What can I do to...to pay you back for that? If I have money..."

"Obviously, you don't have anything right now, and I don't want you worrying about that. Once you're feeling better, Stephen will probably put you to work on the farm."

"I don't know what to do, even if I did before."

"That's all right. We can teach you. A lot of it is just hard work, and so, we'll want to wait until you're feeling better to do that. Did you want to eat something?"

"If that's okay."

"Of course. Not too much, but I'm glad that you seem to be tolerating it well. We'll have you back in the pink in no time."

John smiled.

"Thank you," he said.

"My pleasure. You certainly appreciate my cooking more than my children."

"That's not true," Kelly protested with a smile. "I always appreciated your cooking...just not always your food."

Marilyn laughed.

"By the way, Jeff will be here tomorrow."

"So soon?"

"He said he could come, and you know your brother. He doesn't change his mind once it's made up."

"He's coming for the summer?"

"At least for part of it."

Marilyn served them both bowls of oatmeal. She also put some cream and sugar and cinnamon on the table. Kelly ate it, at first without much thought. Then, she watched how John seemed to be devoted to eating the oatmeal. It was the best thing he'd ever had...as every meal he'd eaten was. How much he cared about the taste was questionable, but it made her think about what she was eating herself. Oatmeal was tolerable, and it was healthy.

After she ate, she carried her bowl to the sink and washed it. John followed her and did the same.

"Okay. So...John."

Kelly noticed that it took a few seconds for him to realize Marilyn was talking to him.

"How do you feel about the name?"

"It's not mine, but...it'll work."

"For now," Marilyn said. "It's only a bathtub downstairs. If you'd like, Kelly can show you the bathroom upstairs where there's a shower."

John's entire countenance changed. He became tense and afraid. He shook his head.

"No. No...shower."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, but no...shower, please. I don't...want a...a shower. Just...no..."

He was almost hyperventilating.

Kelly came over to him and touched his shoulder. He closed his eyes, hunched his shoulders and started to cry.

"I don't want a shower. Please, no. Don't put me in there. Please."

"It's all right, John," Kelly said quickly, shocked by the change. "You don't have to use the shower."

She looked at her mother. Marilyn set down her spoon and walked over to John. She put her arms around him and hugged him gently.

"Shh, it's all right," Marilyn said softly. "It's okay. Don't be afraid."

For a few minutes, John was shaking while Marilyn comforted him. Gradually, he calmed. He opened his eyes and looked at Kelly.

"I don't know...why that happened," he whispered.

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head.

"No, but if was a...a memory... if that's what it was...I don't want to remember that. Not ever."

Marilyn let him go and patted his cheek.

"I don't blame you, but for now, just relax as much as you can. There's nothing else you need to do. Okay?"

John took another breath and wiped at his eyes.

"Okay."

"Kelly, take him to the study. If you want to try reading for a while or sleeping again, you can. That sound good to you?"

"Sure."

Kelly led him to the study.

"Feel free to look at any of the books," she said. "If you decide you want to read, the couch is yours."

"Thanks. I'm sorry if I scared you," he said.

"I think it's pretty clear that you went through worse than I did. I'll survive."

"Thanks."

He took a breath and looked at the shelves. Kelly took the hint and left him there. She went back to the kitchen.

"Wow," she said to Marilyn. "I didn't expect that kind of reaction to a shower."

"We'll probably find other things that will have the same kind of reaction. Your father said he wants to stay here for now, and we have to be ready for that to happen. Jeff will need to be sensitive to that."

"Jeff? Sensitive?"

"We'll have to explain it to him, and he's doing better at that, Kelly."

She nodded, but then sighed. "He asked me why no one was looking for him."

"What did you say?"

"That I didn't have any answers, but I wished I did. I hope that someone _is_ missing him. What little I've seen...he's a good man."

"If not, he'll have a new cheering section behind him. Now, there are chores to do."

"There always are," Kelly said and headed out to get work done.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Over the next week, John began relax a little and adjust to where he was. His memories didn't come back and he learned to respond to the name given him. He discovered that he loved to read. In particular, as he picked books off the shelf, he found one that he felt like he must have read before. He didn't remember what happened, but after he read it, it was as if he'd known what was coming. He read it once...and then, he read it again. And again. It seemed to be a link to his missing past, even if he had no idea what that link was. When Marilyn noticed how much he was enjoying _The Moonstone_ , she told John he could keep it in the bedroom where he was sleeping. It was nice to see him enjoying something rather than afraid of everything.

His physical health was definitely getting better. He started taking walks around the yard, and they were all surprised at how quickly he tired out at first. It was as if whatever had happened to him had sucked all his energy away, but he kept at it and definitely improved. His mental health, however, was much more worrying. John began having violent nightmares that would leave him screaming for help, screaming in remembered pain. When they awakened him, he never remembered what had happened. All he could relate was fear. He still avoided the shower, choosing to take baths instead. His frustration with his lack of memory was only matched by his fear of what those memories were.

When Jeff arrived he was extremely skeptical about John's story, but he was polite to his parents' guest. He was immediately put to work on the farm and he didn't spend much time doing anything else. By the time John had been there for two weeks, he had filled out a bit. When he was fully clothed, no one would guess that he probably had some extremely dark experiences in his past. The visible bruises were fading and he didn't look (or act) like he was starving. He actually looked quite normal.

...until he thought he was alone. Then, the disturbing shadow would come into his eyes and he would start thinking about all the things he didn't know, all the problems that he could possibly face in the future, and the darkness that he couldn't explain...and why, above all, no one seemed to have missed him. Of all the problems he had, that was the one that bothered him the most.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

John let himself out of the house and started walking toward the canal, the thing that had brought him here. No matter how often he stared at it, it didn't tell him what had happened. He didn't remember falling into the river or the canal. He didn't remember getting tangled in the branches from the storm. He didn't even remember the storm. He only knew there _had_ been a storm because they'd told him about it. He walked to the cement check and sat down on it, watching the water pour through in a manmade waterfall. With all the noise, he couldn't hear anything else. All he had was the chaos in his head. In spite of the kindness of the Hoopes family, he knew this wasn't where he belonged and that bothered him. There was someplace out there that was his home. He knew that he should try to find it.

...but where could he really go? He didn't know anyone. He didn't even have a clue about where to go _to_ find someone, and if he _did_ go, how would he know who to trust? But how long could he really stay here? How long would it take before they got tired of him and his nightmares and his moments of inexplicable fear?

Why had nothing come back to him as he recovered? He had hoped that, with physical healing, his memories would return...something at least, but there was nothing. He had no idea who he was, except that he wasn't John. There was some comfort in knowing that wasn't right, he supposed, but it was cold comfort since he didn't have anything to put in its place.

A couple of times, over the last couple of days, he had tried to get himself to say he wanted to take his chances with going to the police...but he hadn't said it because it wasn't true. He was so terrified of being put into the same situation that had somehow led to his amnesia that he couldn't do it.

"John!"

The voice shouted over the water and startled him, but he looked over and saw Kelly. She smiled.

"Can I join you?"

He nodded.

Kelly walked over and sat beside him.

"What brings you here?" she asked, speaking loudly to make herself heard.

"Don't know. Just wanted to be by the water."

Kelly looked out over the canal.

"I always loved the canal when I was a kid. Dad had to watch me so closely. I only fell in once, but that was enough to make him paranoid." She laughed a little. "I just love the sound of the water. We went to Yellowstone a few times when I was kid and I always wanted to stop at the waterfalls."

John nodded.

"Why are you guys letting me stay here?"

"Because you need the help."

"Yeah, but I'm a complete stranger...even to myself. It doesn't make sense for you to let me stay instead of taking me to the hospital right off the bat! I was just a man you'd found in the water. That doesn't require opening your home to me. Why?"

Kelly sighed and looked out at the water.

"You asked me for help. You asked me to not let them get you...whoever _they_ are."

"But why was that enough?" John could see that there was a bigger reason that what she was saying.

"Let's just...say that I don't have a lot of faith in law enforcement to do the right thing. Innocent people tend to suffer when they don't do their jobs."

"Like you?" John asked, although he could see the truth of it well enough.

Kelly nodded. "Like me. That's why I'm here and not doing the job I wanted."

"You don't want to be here?"

Kelly looked at him and smiled sadly. "It's more complicated than that. I never wanted to be a farmer myself. Some things about my family are complicated. I appreciate all the experiences I had growing up here. It was a peaceful place to grow up in, and I learned to work which a lot of people don't anymore, but I wanted to do other things, to be away from here, to get out into the world and experience it all without just being Stephen Hoopes' daughter. I wanted to work in business...but the outside world isn't kind to honest people. I refused to lie, and _I_ was the one punished for it. All I could do was...leave, even though I was officially vindicated. I lost my friends, my job, and any chance I have of going back. I had nowhere to go...so I came back home. I don't know how long I'll stay here, but it'll be a few years...so that the business world can forget me and I can try again. Maybe. I don't know what I'll do instead."

John looked at her, thinking about someone else's problems for the first time...maybe ever as far as he knew.

"How bad was it?"

"Bad enough that I'd rather not depend on the police to help me or anyone else. If you had wanted to, I would have supported you in going to them. I don't think the police around here are corrupt by any means, but I'd never choose that again for myself."

"Once bitten, twice shy?"

"More like a hundred times shy."

John nodded...and then, his mind went back to his own problems.

"What if I never remember?"

"Never is a long time."

"Yeah, it is. It's all I can see stretching out ahead of me. A lot of nothing with nothing behind me, either."

Kelly leaned on the railing.

"I can understand that feeling, at least."

"Do you not like being on the farm?"

"I love being with my family. I was working near Chicago and it was hard to come back to visit. I even missed Christmas a few years, but I never imagined I'd be back here in any kind of permanent way. I imagined coming back for holidays and maybe for a few weeks in the summer. I didn't think I'd be _living_ here again."

"Do your parents know how you feel?"

"Of course. I think Dad is glad I'm back. Jeff isn't going to be a farmer. He's adamant about that. Paul might. He's always seemed to like it, but Dad is afraid that the farm will die when he does."

"Would you stay?"

"I don't know," Kelly said. "It's possible that I could be happy here, but it would take a major shift in my plans."

"That doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing," John said.

" _You'll be here until you help us with our plans."_

" _We have all the time in the world, and we can make it so that you do, too. Is that what you want?"_

 _He screamed as the current surged through him. Water dripped over him from above._

"John! John!"

He was breathing heavily and he noticed that, while Kelly was in front of him, someone else was holding him from behind.

"What happened?" Kelly asked. She looked frightened.

"They wanted me to help them," he said. "And they...I was in the...shower and...and they...had this thing...and it...it touched...my skin and..." He closed his eyes as he remembered that pain. It was almost like he'd felt it again.

"Let's get you off the check."

The new voice startled him. He looked up and back and saw Paul.

"You ready to get up?" he asked.

John nodded. Paul helped him up and Kelly led them both off the check and to the dirt road. John sat down on the bank with a heavy thump. The sound of the check was muffled quite a bit. He let out a whoosh of air. Kelly sat down beside him.

"You remembered something?" she asked.

"Not something I _want_ to remember," he said with a shaky smile.

Paul crouched down in front of them and looked into John's eyes.

"Yeah, you're looking better than you were a few minutes ago."

"Minutes?" John repeated.

"Yeah. You were freaking out a bit. Lucky, I happened by."

John nodded. "I'm sorry that I'm such...a mess."

Paul smiled. "Sounds like it's not your fault. You feeling all right now?"

John nodded again. "As all right as I ever am."

"Good. One of the circles isn't working right. We don't need it now, but if we wait until we do, you just know that Dad is going to get frustrated. He's not very patient when the equipment stops working."

"Thanks, Paul," John said softly.

"No problem." He stood up and headed back down the road.

After he was gone, John looked at Kelly again.

"I scared you again, didn't I."

"Yeah. You did, but I know it's not your fault."

"Nice of you. And you're sure you don't want me to go somewhere else?"

"No, not when you're so afraid of what little you've remembered. I can't even imagine what you've been through. I don't think I want to."

"I don't, either."

"Did you get anything positive out of that?"

"No. I can't say that I did."

"Well, if you got one memory, maybe you'll get more."

"As long as it's not more of _those_ memories. I think I'm okay with _not_ remembering those."

"Do you get to choose?" Kelly asked with a bit of a smile.

"I doubt it," John said...which was, in his mind, a strike _against_ remembering.

"It's only been a couple of weeks. You're still safe here, and Dad won't make you leave unless you abuse his generosity."

"I don't plan on doing that," John said. "I'm still amazed that he would help me like this."

"Dad is all about maintaining independence from the rest of the world if he can. He's not one of those people who's going to take up battle against The Man or anything like that, but he doesn't want to be stuck depending on others for survival. It goes against his grain."

"And that includes helping strangers?"

"Helping strangers is a code with him. He believes that most people are good people and so he refuses to be suspicious of their motives."

"He still watches me."

"That's because he's not stupid. You're a stranger and that means we don't know what you might do," Kelly said with a grin. "He claims it's not a contradiction. Don't ask me why."

"Okay." John took a breath. "I can't keep just sitting around. I don't like not doing my part."

"Careful what you ask for," Kelly said. "Dad won't hesitate if you offer. He takes people at their word."

"I want to help...although I don't how much help I'll be. All this stuff I see going on around here...none of it makes any sense to me."

"Well, you missed planting oats by only a week. The winter wheat and alfalfa are already growing. We just need to keep our eyes on it. Right now, we don't need to irrigate, but we will later. Mostly, what we're doing right now is taking care of the cattle. The garden should be coming up soon, and the more delicate plants haven't been planted yet. We're still getting frost at night; so Mom doesn't want to plant stuff when it'll just freeze."

"There's nothing for me to do?"

"Oh, I didn't say that. There is _always_ work to do on a farm. You work until you die. It's just a matter of how you distribute the chores."

Kelly got to her feet and held out her hand. John grabbed it and let her pull him up. They walked together back to the house, and John couldn't help wondering if he would find more about himself by doing farm chores. Would that trigger something in his mind that would let show him who he was? So far, what little he remembered was making him think that it would be better _not_ to remember.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Another two weeks with no contact was making everyone who knew about Tim's abduction start to wonder if there was something they could do now. How much scrutiny were they under now? Could they risk being more open about their search?

Was it worth risking causing Tim more harm by making their intentions obvious?


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

John woke up sucking in his breath to scream. He managed to keep the scream from coming out. He didn't want to wake up everyone in the house...again.

He sat up in bed and looked around the dark room. It was still early. Too early even for Stephen to be up. Still, he knew he didn't want to go to sleep again. Not yet.

He grabbed _The Moonstone_ from the side table and decided to go out into the living room to read for a while. He needed some distance from the nightmares he faced in his sleep. He opened the door and edged his way to the living room. There was a lamp by the couch and he could turn it on without disturbing anyone.

John made it safely to the couch and turn on the lamp. He opened the book at random and started reading. He still felt like this was something he knew because of memories locked away in his head. If he kept reading it, maybe something would happen. Maybe he'd remember who he was...preferably without remembering all the awful stuff in between.

He sat there reading for a few minutes and then, he sensed someone else in the room. He looked up from the book and tensed. He was afraid to look around, afraid that he'd see someone coming after him.

"You're up early."

John let out a whoosh of air, relieved. He looked back and smiled at Jeff.

"Woke up, didn't want to go back to sleep."

"It's only about two in the morning, you know."

"No, I didn't, but...that's okay with me. Are you watching me?"

Jeff nodded and walked over to the chair.

"It's one of the reasons my parents asked me to come home for the summer, although I wouldn't be surprised if they used that as an excuse. They know I don't want to be a farmer, but they keep trying to keep me here."

"Why not?" John asked, curiously.

"Do _you_?" Jeff asked sharply. He had been colder toward John than the others, and this was the first time they'd really had any conversation.

"I don't know," John said. "For all I know, I could really be a farmer myself."

"Yeah, right. You're not a farmer."

"How would you know?" John asked.

Jeff leaned over and grabbed John's hand and flipped it over, palm up.

"Your hands are too soft to be a farmer's hands. Actually, they don't look like you've ever really done real work. No callouses or scars or anything. Farming is hard work. You don't have nice hands when you farm." He let John's hand go.

John looked at his hands with new eyes. He really hadn't thought about it that way before.

"Maybe you're right. I don't know. Nothing I've seen people doing here has made any sense to me. Why don't _you_ want to be a farmer, though? You grew up here, right?"

"Yeah. That's why," Jeff said, sounding almost sullen. "There's no TV out here. The only Internet is dial-up, which means that when the phones go out, so does the Internet. It also means it's slower than cold tar. I can only get good Internet on my phone. It's out in the middle of nowhere. College is much better, and no, I'm not studying agriculture."

"Can you do that?" John asked.

"What?"

"Is agriculture really a major?"

"Yeah. Why are you so surprised?"

"Well...if you want to be a farmer, wouldn't...working on a farm be enough?"

Jeff smiled a little. "Yeah, probably, but there are new ideas and people can study sustainable agriculture to see how to make more efficient use of the land and stuff like that."

"I guess."

"So...how long are you staying here?"

"I don't know. So far as I can remember, this place is all that exists."

"I'm not sure I believe you."

John looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Good for you. Whether you believe me or not doesn't change anything. I'm the one who has to deal with it. Not you."

"Except that if you're telling the truth, and you really do have amnesia, and it's because of someone doing this to you...you could be putting _us_ in danger. What if the people who did this to you are still after you, now? What then?"

John felt a cold twisting in his stomach. That little bit he'd remembered by the canal today. If it was a real memory, was he opening up Kelly and her parents to that kind of suffering by staying here? The book slipped from his hands to the floor. Jeff raised an eyebrow.

"Look, I don't know you. I don't know anything about you. Maybe you're genuine, maybe not, but that seems kind of selfish to me. My parents live a pretty simple life. It's what they want. It's who they are. I may not want it for myself, but I don't think much of a guy who would let them be in danger to keep himself safe."

Jeff got to his feet and left the room.

John sat on the couch, stunned. He had never even _considered_ the idea that he might be risking these people's lives by staying here. When Stephen had offered to let him stay, he had grasped that lifeline, wanting nothing more than to find someplace safe.

...but how safe could it really be when _he_ was the one who could bring danger here?

 _Am I that kind of person? Would I really not care about anyone else so long as I'm safe? Would I let others die to save myself?_

He sat on the couch for a couple of hours without moving, trapped in the horror of the idea that he could inflict the kind of pain he remembered on the people who had saved him.

Finally, he managed to get himself off the couch. He walked back to the bedroom, found the shoes Paul had brought him. He pulled them on, pulled on the jacket and walked out of the house.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly woke up by six which was more normal for her than the nine a.m. she'd had a couple of mornings after watching over John for a few hours. She got up, got ready for the day and headed downstairs. When she walked by the room John had been sleeping in, she noticed that the door was open and it was empty. She was surprised because John hadn't been getting up very early, partly because of the nightmares that kept him from sleeping through the night. Usually, he was the last one up.

She walked to the kitchen. Marilyn was just getting breakfast going.

"Mom, have you seen John this morning?"

"No. He's still in bed, isn't he?"

"No. He's not. The bedroom's empty."

"Really? Your dad is already outside in the shed. Maybe John is out there."

"I'll go check."

Kelly headed out of the house and saw her dad coming across the yard.

"Dad, is John with you?"

"Haven't seen him. Isn't he in bed?"

"No."

Kelly started to feel worried. John hadn't shown any interest in leaving the farm so far. To have him suddenly gone...

"I don't like this, Dad."

"Don't get worried before you need to."

"Who says I don't need to now? I don't like this. He's barely been leaving the house. He's afraid of what might happen to him...and now, he's just gone?"

"You're saying you want to look for him?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"Okay. You take the truck and head east. I'll get your brother and Mel and we'll go the other directions. If you find him, call us, and we'll do the same. All right?"

"Okay."

Kelly got the keys and jumped in the pickup. She drove east along the canal very slowly, looking for any sign of John. Occasionally, she stopped the pickup and got out to climb up the bank and see if there was any sign of him up and down the canal itself.

It wasn't until she reached the very edge of the farm that she saw him. The last gate, in fact. He was sitting by the gate, as close as he could to being off the farm without actually leaving. His head was in his hands and he was just sitting on the ground. He didn't look up as the pickup pulled up to him, even though there was no way that he could have missed the noisy engine. Kelly pulled out her phone and called Stephen.

"Dad, I found him, by the east gate."

" _You need any help?"_

"No. I'll talk to him. Let you know."

" _All right."_

Kelly hung up and got out of the pickup. She sat down by John, and she just waited. Her mom had done this when she got really upset about things. Instead of giving advice, asking what was wrong, she would just sit there and wait for Kelly to say what she wanted to say.

Using that as her guide, Kelly waited.

"I tried to leave," he said after a few minutes. "I've been trying to force myself to go over the fence and leave, but I don't know where to go. I came out of the house and thought about being in Montana and going east felt right and so I started going east, but...outside of this place...there's nothing I know. There's nothing out there, no world at all, just a void. ...but I shouldn't stay."

"Why not? We've all told you that you're welcome to stay."

"I woke up from a nightmare. Jeff saw me in the living room, reading. He pointed out what I should have thought of myself."

"What's that?" Kelly asked, not liking the sound of that statement. Jeff wasn't exactly known for his tact. He wasn't intentionally cruel, but he didn't always think about how what he said could be taken.

"If I was running from someone, and they find me here...you all could be in danger. How could I do that to you? How could I do that to _anyone_? You saved my life and I could endanger yours just by being here."

Kelly sighed.

"John, don't let Jeff drive you away. He doesn't think sometimes."

" _I_ wasn't thinking, Kelly. My safety shouldn't take precedence over yours."

"It's not. Do you think _we_ haven't thought about that?"

"You have?" John lifted his head. "I didn't at all."

"You don't even remember what brought you here. It's hard to think beyond that, I'm sure. We know that there could be a risk in helping you. We've thought about it. We're not afraid of sheltering you here."

"I don't want to leave," John said, looking at the ground again. "Even though I was trying to. I just couldn't. This is the only place that exists in the world, and I didn't want to go."

"I'm glad. I was worried when I saw that you were gone."

"You were?" He looked at her.

"Yeah. I was afraid that something had happened to you."

"I figured you'd be happy to be rid of me."

"Only if I knew you were safe."

John smiled a little.

"John, do you want to go?"

"No."

"All right. Then, you'll stay until you want to go, and don't worry about us. We're not helpless."

Kelly got up and held out her hand. John looked at her and then let her help him up. They walked back to the truck and, while she didn't say anything, Kelly was seething mad at her brother for driving John out of the house and almost driving him away from the farm when he had already said that he didn't have any idea what was out there. What if the people who had done all this to him had found him? It didn't bear thinking about.

When they got back to the yard, Kelly smiled at John and then hurried into the house ahead of him, determined to get a hold of Jeff and give him a piece of her mind.

"Jeff!" she said loudly.

"What? Is he back?" Jeff asked, completely oblivious to his role in John's near disappearance.

Kelly stormed into the kitchen.

"Yes, no thanks to _you_!"

"What do you mean, Kelly?" Marilyn asked.

"Early this morning, Jeff told John that he was putting us in danger by staying here. John was trying to leave, but he was so afraid of leaving the farm that I found him, sitting on the ground by the east gate, terrified to go any farther. Do you not have a single shred of empathy?" she asked Jeff. "He didn't ask for all this. He didn't want it, but he has it, and it's not for you to make his lot harder than it is. He does not need _guilt_ on top of everything else!"

" _You're_ one to talk about guilt!" Jeff shot back. "After all that-"

"Stop it, both of you!" Marilyn said before Jeff could say something he couldn't taken back. "Jeff, we have opened our home to this man. It's not your responsibility to attack him for it. Whatever your feelings on our decision, you shouldn't blame him for it. _We_ made the decision, not him."

"What I said to him was true," Jeff said. "What's the point in pretending that this is just some happy-go-lucky happenstance? Besides, I didn't tell him to leave."

"But he tried," Kelly said. "Right after you told him."

" _Maybe_ he tried. Haven't you considered the possibility that he might be manipulating you? Pretending that he's all traumatized so that he can leave you vulnerable and rob you or something worse? I don't want to see that happen just because you're so willing to take what he says at face value. He could be a pathological liar for all you know!"

Stephen hadn't said a word so far, preferring to listen, first.

"He's not," he said. "That's final. I'm glad to have you home, Jeff, but you need to respect our guest for as long as he's here."

"I'm sorry." That wasn't Jeff's voice.

They all turned back and saw John standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

"I don't want to be so much trouble. I don't want to have you fighting because of me," he said. "I really can go...somewhere, if you want."

Kelly looked at Jeff who said nothing, although his skeptical expression didn't change.

"No," Stephen said. "The situation hasn't changed. Unless you have somewhere to go..."

John shook his head.

"Don't worry, then."

"I just...I don't want to make things worse."

"You haven't."

"It is time for breakfast, though," Marilyn interjected. "Everyone ready?"

John looked at Jeff for a long moment, and although John must be at least ten years older, his expression was that of a child, asking for permission to join the big kids.

Jeff shrugged and sat down. John hesitated and then sat down as well.

Breakfast was a bit tense, but they ate together.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Fornell stepped into the empty house where Tim had apparently been held for some period of time. Very few people had been made aware of Tim's disappearance, but Fornell was one of them, and now, Vance had asked him to go over the house again, hoping that an unfamiliar face might keep Tim's captors from realizing that they were trying to find him again.

Fornell had seen the same video the rest of them had seen. It had been the first time he'd actually seen a parrilla in action, although he'd heard of them before. He knew the principle. Seeing Tim blindfolded and screaming in pain, trembling in fear...and all for reasons unknown, that had been enough to make him willing to do what was necessary. Even when that had seemed to require doing nothing.

As he walked through the small house, the question came to him again and again: Why Tim? Why Tim and not someone else? While he was of great importance to those who knew him and worked with him, at the end of the day, he was just another field agent at NCIS. He wasn't the head of NCIS. He wasn't the most skilled with computers, although he knew more than most people might assume. There was Cybercrimes for that. Gibbs had the extensive connections and the most skeletons in his closet if this had been personal. Ziva had been Mossad, and she wasn't even in the country any longer. It just didn't make sense that Tim would be targeted for something so heinous.

But he had been. How much did the why really matter?

Fornell scoffed at his own question. It could be the most important aspect of this. If they knew why Tim had been taken, they might know how dangerous it was to others. If Tim had cracked under that torture, what might these people do next?


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It had been a short conversation on the phone, but it was enough to cause worry.

"I just heard from back east. There was someone at the house in Maryland."

"Who? NCIS?"

"No one they recognized, but clearly someone official. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Might as well have had _fed_ tattooed on his forehead."

"They've started looking for him again."

"Or they're being more obvious about it now. I doubt we ever stopped them completely. You know what that means?"

"It means _they_ don't have him."

"No sign of any bodies after the storm three weeks ago, and we would have heard something by now. So...he's still here?"

"But why? If he was able to, why wouldn't he contact NCIS and get help?"

"Maybe he can't."

"Why not, though?"

"We know he went into the river. Maybe he was seriously injured."

"Haven't seen anything on the news. We know he didn't have ID with him when he got away."

"If he was in the hospital..."

"I don't know. But if he's still alive, and able to talk, that risks everything we've been planning. The reason we were never found was because we were willing to take the time to plan. We've planned everything."

"Except his escape."

"And look where not planning has got us. This has been three years in the making. I'm not losing everything because of one man. We need the information he wouldn't give us, but we might be able to get by without it. If he tells anyone what we want, everything has been wasted."

"So...we have to find him. We have to know where he is and what he's said."

"Exactly. Call them back. Get at least two to come out."

"What about NCIS? If they've started investigating again..."

"It's been almost seven months. I don't see what they'll find now that they didn't find then. We can keep our eye on this new guy, but I don't want to start tailing the NCIS people again. We're going to take our time to fix this problem. No rushing. First, we search the river, see if we can find any sign of him where he might not have been seen. If so, and he's dead, we leave him there. If not, we'll check the hospitals."

"And then?"

"Then...he has to be somewhere. We'll find him."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you ready for this, John?" Kelly asked with a smile.

"I don't know. I don't think I'm going to be much help here. I just don't know what to do."

John looked worried as they walked together to the hay.

"It doesn't take smarts. All that we have to do is move the hay bales. The cattle need to eat. Our elevation is too high for the grass to be growing much yet. We've only barely stopped freezing overnight. In a couple of weeks, we can put them out to pasture and be done with this part until the winter again."

John did a mock flex.

"I'm not sure I'm going to be any help."

"Just try it and, if you can't lift the bales right now, I'll do the bales and you can cut the twine and spread the hay out for them."

"Great. Showed up by a girl."

Kelly laughed.

"Showed up by a _farm_ girl. That's a very different story."

"Okay. If you say so."

"I do."

Kelly handed him leather gloves. John pulled them on and followed her to the hay. Kelly demonstrated how to heft the bales and lug them to the corral. John tried. He really did, but whatever muscle he might have had was long gone. It was clearly embarrassing for him, but Kelly just put him to work clipping the twine and spreading the hay out so that the cattle could get to it more easily. Then, she had him fill the troughs with water. It wasn't easy work, even if it was simple. When they were done, John was breathing heavily.

"You do this every day?"

"When the cows can't feed themselves, someone has to feed them. They never stop needing to eat."

"I guess so."

After a few seconds, the shadow returned to John's eyes. Kelly was getting used to seeing it. It never left for very long. John hadn't remembered anything else, but he did know that there was something awful in his past. Plus, although they'd reassured him that they were happy to have them there, Jeff's accusation of the possible danger of doing that had not gone away. He had stopped asking them if it was okay that he was there, but it was clear that he hadn't forgotten the shock.

"It's all right, John."

"I don't know if it is."

"You can't know everything, but right now, you can know that you're safe and that you're welcome here."

"Thanks." John took a breath "So...what's next?"

"Work. That's always what's next," Kelly said.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

John worked with Kelly basically all day, stopping only when she suggested they take a break. It was hard work. It was dirty work. John ended up with blisters on his hands which were declared to be good. They'd help his palms get callouses, Stephen said. John wasn't exactly happy with that himself, but he didn't complain. Jeff hadn't really said anything to him over the last couple of days, but John knew he was still being watched...by Jeff, if no one else.

When the sun set, for the first time, John was ready to sleep before everyone else. He ate dinner and then went to the bedroom. He barely stayed alert long enough to change into sweats before he fell onto the bed and slept.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _There was darkness, not just darkness. Black. All around him. He was walking on something solid, but he could see nothing. He just kept walking. At first, there was no destination, but then, he heard a voice. It was calling a name, but he couldn't hear what it was. He knew it was_ his _name, though, and so he started to run toward it._

 _He ran and ran through the darkness, the voice getting louder but still not intelligible._

 _Then, there was a flash of light._

 _With that flash came pain. Intense agony that consumed him. He stumbled and fell to the solid darkness beneath his feet. He tried to get up, but there was another flash. More pain._

 _The voice faded._

 _He cried for the voice to help him, but there was nothing. No people. No help._

 _Only the pain with each flash of light._

 _He was drenched in water and when the pain came, it cascaded over his entire body and he screamed for help. Pleading for someone, anyone to stop the pain._

 _He forgot about the voice. He just wanted the pain to stop. He would do anything to make the pain stop._

 _Another flash of light and he shrieked, his arms stretched up above his head. He was hanging from something and screaming for mercy, mercy that didn't exist because there was no one there to give it or take it away. Only pain._

"John! Wake up, John!"

 _Another flash of light blinded him. The pain surged through him from head to toe. There was no way to stop the pain, no way to escape it. He couldn't even die, although he wanted to._

"John!"

 _He was shaking, something was shaking him. He couldn't get away._

"John, please. Wake up."

 _The black began to get fuzzy and gray. There was light. Not flashes, just light from some source._

"John."

 _The shaking wasn't causing him pain. He blinked._

He opened his eyes and found himself staring at Stephen, breathing heavily. The light was on, and Stephen wasn't the only one in the room. Except for Paul, the whole Hoopes family was there.

"You awake now?" Stephen asked.

John nodded, feeling relieved that he could do so. He didn't think he could trust his voice at the moment.

"What was it?"

"A...dream..." John whispered. "A dream. I hope it was a dream. I don't want it to be real."

"Let's get you completely awake."

John nodded vaguely. He wasn't really aware of his surroundings.

"You can put your arms down."

"What?"

John looked up and realized that his hands were over his head. Then, he noticed that he wasn't in his bed. He was in the bathroom, but not the one downstairs. This must be the bathroom upstairs. There was a shower. That's where he was. In the bathtub. He was relieved to note that he'd kept his clothes on...and he hadn't turned on the water, in spite of his dream of being wet.

He lowered his arms, noticing that they were shaking.

"I'm sorry I woke you all up," he said, adding embarrassment to his emotions.

"Ready to get out of the tub?"

"Yeah. I think so." John started to get up, but he was still shaking. "Maybe I'll just sit here for a few more minutes. You don't have to stay...unless you need the bathroom."

"How about we just help you get someplace more comfortable than the ceramic tub?" Stephen suggested.

"Okay."

"Jeff, help me get him up."

John was surprised when Jeff did so without hesitating. He wanted to get up on his own, but he was feeling so shaky that he wasn't sure he could. He let them help him up and support him out of the bathroom. Marilyn and Kelly hadn't said a word so far as he knew, but he was too bothered by what he'd dreamed to try and figure that out. Instead, he leaned on Stephen and they went downstairs to the living room. By the time they got to the bottom of the stairs, John was feeling like he could walk on his own. He straightened a little and Stephen let him walk to the couch himself.

"It's three in the morning," he said, noticing the grandfather clock. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about that," Stephen said.

"But I keep doing this to you. I just..."

"You haven't done it every night, and we're okay with it. Let us decide what's too much and what isn't."

"Okay."

John realized that no one had come downstairs with them. Instead, he and Stephen were alone in the living room. It made sense, he supposed. Why would they want to stay up after being so rudely awakened?

"Now, tell me what you dreamed."

John didn't want to do that. He didn't want to express what he had experienced in that horrific nightmare in words. The dream had been bad enough.

"It was just a dream."

"Maybe. Maybe not. None of us are shrinks. We don't know how to fix your problems. We're just giving you a place to stay. But maybe talking about what your mind is trying to tell you will help."

"I guess it's worth a try. I didn't really see much. It was all black around me. I was just walking." John took a breath. "Then, I heard someone calling my name."

"What was it?"

"I don't know. I couldn't tell. But I knew it was my name they were calling. I tried to get to the voice, but then...there were...flashes of light, and..." He felt himself started to tense up as he remembered. "...and every flash...I felt...pain. There was water pouring over me, and every flash, pain. I was begging for help, for mercy, but there was no one there. Just me, just the pain. That was all. The voice was gone, and all I had was the pain." He felt the tears in his eyes and wiped them away before they could fall and embarrass himself even further.

"We heard you."

"Yeah. I don't want it to be real."

"Well, some parts of it probably aren't."

"The worst parts probably are."

"You think so?"

John nodded. "The pain is real. And that feeling I had."

"What feeling?"

"Being alone with the pain. No one there." John looked at Stephen and then away. "Whoever I am...no one cared enough to...to search for me. I'm not missing. I'm nobody. I kept calling for help and no one was there." His throat was tight and he swallowed quickly. "Whoever I am, I'm not important enough to be kept from that. What's the point in remembering who it is that didn't care?"

"I don't think you should look at it like that."

"How else can I? Why wouldn't anyone be looking for me?"

"I don't know," Stephen said. "But I do know that if you can't remember what happened and can't remember who you are, then, you shouldn't assume that no one cares until you have proof."

"Part of me doesn't want to remember," John confessed. "What happened was so bad that I forgot it. What little I remember is terrible. Maybe it's worth giving up the rest of it so I don't have to know what gave me these scars."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I can't answer that."

"I can't, either."

"The one thing is, John...you're remembering. It's not much and it's not everything. It's not even the parts you probably want to know, but you _are_ remembering _something_ , and that means you'll probably remember more...whether you want to or not."

"Yeah."

"So, let it happen. Don't resist it. The bad stuff has to end eventually, even if you have to go through that before you get to the good stuff."

John sighed.

"And we'll be right behind you for as long as you need us."

"Thanks."

Stephen went up to bed, but John stayed awake for a while longer. Thinking about his nightmare and about Stephen's suggestion. He didn't know how to do that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

John was awake for a couple of hours before he relaxed enough to go to sleep...and that meant he slept longer than everyone else, again. When he finally got up, he went to the kitchen. Marilyn was there, as she so often was.

"What keeps you busy in here all the time?" he asked.

She laughed.

"You think I'm always in the kitchen?"

"It seems like you are."

"That's because I listen for when you get up and come in here to make sure you get a square meal. I still don't like how starved you look."

John looked down at himself.

"Is it that bad?"

"As bad as you were? No, but your height and body type tells me that you're used to having more meat on your bones."

"Oh."

Marilyn just smiled and got out the eggs.

"Hashbrowns?"

"What?"

"Do you want hashbrowns?"

"Oh...uh...sure. Whatever is easiest for you."

"Eggs, bacon and hashbrowns are easy, and you'll need the nourishment."

"More work?"

"Always. You want to be a farmer yet?"

John smiled. "Well...probably not."

"I would have been surprised if you had. It's definitely not for everyone."

Marilyn started to make the eggs. John watched her as she skillfully flipped them, all the while working on the hashbrowns. It seemed like she was everywhere at once. John was amazed by how effortless she made it all look. He'd been here long enough to know that she cooked all the meals. When people offered to help her, she generally made them sit at the table. She liked to cook and it was what she did. The house was her domain as much as the shed was Stephen's domain. When necessary, she helped with the cattle. She'd been known to drive tractor, haul hay and the like, but in general, she kept everything else clicking over so that the farm could run smoothly.

"You'd think I was recombining DNA, John. I promise, making eggs isn't that amazing."

"You make it all look so easy."

Marilyn set a plate of food in front him. John dug into it with gusto, as he always did. He didn't _feel_ like he was starving, but he always was eager to eat at every meal and any time food was offered to him in between. He never left anything on the plate. This was no exception. He cleaned his plate.

"More?" Marilyn asked.

John shook his head. "No, thank you."

"I do appreciate that you seem to enjoy what I make, no matter what it is."

"I have to admit that...sometimes, I don't even pay attention to what it is. I just want to eat it."

"I don't mind."

John drank the glass of milk _and_ the glass of orange juice.

"So...what now?"

"Now, Kelly teaches you how to milk."

"Milk? You mean cows?"

"Yes. All our milk and cream comes from our own cows."

"Really?"

"Shocked?"

"I just hadn't thought about it."

"Well, it's just about time to milk. We don't run a dairy. We just keep a few dairy cows for ourselves. Our income comes mostly from our beef cattle. Angus."

"So...I'm going to milk a cow?"

"Well, Kelly is going to show you how. If you can't manage it at first, we'll understand."

"Okay. Where do I go?"

"Out to the barn. We always milk them in the barn, no matter the time of year. It's a good controlled environment. Makes everything more peaceful."

"Peaceful?"

"You'll see. If you're done eating, you can go and find out."

"Okay."

John headed to the barn. Kelly was just pushing a cow into yet another incomprehensible device.

"It looks like you're about to guillotine that poor cow," he said.

"It's called a stanchion," Kelly said without turning from her task. "Keeps the cows from being too finicky and deciding to leave in the middle of milking. If they want to move, it's hard for us puny humans to keep them from doing it."

"Unless you have them restrained."

"Exactly. You ready to learn the Zen of milking?"

"Zen? Milking?"

"You'd be surprised. Come on over and watch."

John did as he was told and started to learn the strange art of milking a cow.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

For the millionth time, Abby stared at the video. She'd watched it so many times that she could mostly tune out the fact that it was Tim screaming. She was trying to find something that was probably non-existent.

It didn't stop her from trying to find something.

A hand on her shoulder, startled her from her examination.

"Still nothing, Abigail?"

"I'm going to find something, Ducky," Abby said with determination. "I will! No one is perfect! They have to mess up somewhere!"

"That somewhere does not have to be in this video, however. Their mistake could be elsewhere."

"But it could be here, too!"

Ducky turned her away from the monitor, hands on both shoulders now, eyes very kind. He spoke slowly and deliberately.

"Abigail, if there was something to find in that awful video, you would have found it sometime in the last seven months. There is nothing to be gained by watching it again. I know that you have gone through each second individually. If you have found nothing, there is nothing to find."

Abby felt tears in her eyes.

"It's not like he's just missing, Ducky. We _know_ what he's gone through! We can see it! And nothing we've done has helped!"

Ducky hugged her gently.

"We don't have to give up, but perhaps direct your energies elsewhere...away from that."

"Is he even still alive, Ducky?" Abby asked through her tears.

"We can only pray that he is."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly could feel John watching her, wanting to ask something, but he wasn't. As she patted the cow and let it back out of the barn, she decided just to ask him.

"What is it, John?"

"Uh...nothing."

"That wasn't convincing in the least." She turned back to him. "What is it?"

"I don't... It's not fair for me to ask you questions when you can't ask me any in return."

"That's all right. Try it anyway."

He hesitated. "Why don't you trust police? I mean...you said that it's because of what happened in Chicago, but...you glossed over what actually happened."

"Yeah, well, I don't like to share the details."

"I don't want to push. I'm just curious."

"Here. Let's get the udder cleaned and then, you can try milking yourself."

"Okay."

As he had said, he didn't push. Kelly watched him, a little amused at his tentative approach to touching the udder. She could understand why he had hesitated about asking her. When asking to have something painful shared, it usually helped if reciprocation were possible. In this case, John couldn't reciprocate. What little _he_ knew, they already knew, too.

"It wasn't just that I was rejected by my coworkers," she said quietly.

John turned toward her and then back to the cow, deliberately _not_ looking at her.

"The worst part of it was that my boyfriend was leading the pack. The things he was doing at the company were not only unethical, they were illegal. When I went to the police to make a report, they tried to cover it up. I was forced to go to the media. I didn't want to go that route, but I couldn't get anyone to listen. The company had a good reputation. It brought a lot of money to the area. Insider trading and other...problems...I couldn't look the other way. My _ex_ -boyfriend ended up falling pretty hard. He took most of the blame, even though he wasn't the only one involved. I came home one day...and the locks had been changed. He didn't waste any time. I couldn't even get in to get what belonged to me. He changed the access codes for the bank account we'd opened together. I still had my own savings, but everything that we'd done together...he had it all. When I tried to get something, some kind of compensation for all that I'd lost, just in monetary terms, the police ignored my reports. I got death threats on the phone. I reported them. No help from the police. I had to cut away every part of my life in order to stop the harassment. And the police wouldn't do _anything_ to help me. So...no, I don't trust them." She shook her head. "And I should have known better than to get involved with a coworker. That should be a rule, written down somewhere."

"It's rule number twelve," John said in a strange voice.

"What?"

"Never date a coworker."

"What are you talking about?" Kelly asked. "Rule twelve? How many rules are there?"

"Fifty."

Then, it dawned on her that John was _remembering_ something. She didn't know how to encourage the memory that had apparently been triggered.

"What are the others?"

There was a long silence and then John shook himself, like he'd been asleep and was just waking up. Kelly crouched down beside him.

"John, you remembered something."

"Fifty rules," John said, furrowing his brow. "What could that mean? Why fifty? And why would one be about dating a coworker?"

"I just gave you a perfect example," Kelly said ruefully.

John squeezed her arm gently. Then, the cow indicated that it was ready to be milked. She moved toward the stanchion, forcing John to stand up and back away quickly.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" he asked.

"Yes. Go for it."

John reached out and grabbed a teat, using the technique Kelly had shown him. He actually looked a little bit skeptical as he squeezed the teat. When a thin stream of milk went into the bucket, he looked surprised.

"It worked!"

"Yes, it did. Congratulations."

John flushed a little. "I didn't think I'd do it right."

"It's not rocket science, John. It's just milking cows."

"Might as well be for all I understand about the things you guys do here."

"It's not that complicated."

John looked back and tentatively squeezed the teat again.

"You need to go faster than that. It'll take all day."

John laughed. He started to slowly squeeze the teats and milk the cow. It wasn't expertly done, but he was doing it right and he began to get more confident in the motions as he continued.

"So...was what happened to you a national story?"

"Yeah, but not as big as you might be thinking. After the initial story, I wouldn't give any more interviews, and the case took too long to get going for attention to be on it for very long. Nationally, anyway. Locally, people didn't forget. I was going to stick it out there, but...I saw someone following me one night on my way to my apartment. And after my car got vandalized for the second time, I gave up. I packed up my clothes, closed my bank account, broke the lease on my apartment and drove back here. I called Mom and Dad on my way, and they had my room all set up by the time I got here."

"I'm sorry that happened to you. It sounds awful."

"Yeah. I wouldn't mind forgetting about it, actually. But things like that...you don't forget them."

John stopped milking and turned to face her.

"I understand wanting to forget. What little I remember...I don't _want_ to remember, but there's something to be said for...knowing everything. I've forgotten everything. I don't know if it's worth the price."

"Hard to know for sure, I guess...until you've lost everything."

John nodded and then turned back to the cow and continued milking.

"I'm glad you're here," he said softly. "I might have died in the canal if you hadn't been there to find me."

"Someone would have had to clear the debris out eventually."

"Before or after I died?"

He stopped milking again and patted the side of the cow.

"As awful as all this has been, not knowing who I am or where I belong...or why no one seems to care that I've been missing, I'm alive, at least. I might have died."

Kelly pulled her stool closer to John and put an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm glad you survived, too, John."

"Even if I end up being a real scuz?"

Kelly laughed. "Even then. Now, get going on the milking. Otherwise, the cow might decide to get you back for not finishing fast enough."

John smiled and went back to his chore.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the next week, John started taking over the daily milking. Kelly helped him since he was pretty slow at first, but she also was coming to genuinely enjoy his company. Amnesia or not, John had a personality of his own. It was tentatively expressed at times, but there was genuine concern for others, a bit of a sense of humor (too often suppressed by his other problems), and an eagerness to learn, while claiming complete ignorance. No matter what anyone else might say, Kelly believed that those attributes must be constants in his personality, that he wasn't starting over from scratch even if he couldn't consciously access the memories of his life.

The man she was getting to know was someone worth knowing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Fornell glanced casually in his rearview mirror. This was the third time in the last week that he'd seen someone tailing him. They never stuck with him for long periods of time...which was why it had take three times for him to put it together.

Now, however, he was sure, and he was also sure that it had nothing to do with FBI business. There was only one thing he'd done in the last few weeks that would warrant being tailed. That was being NCIS' eyes and ears while they tried to be discreet in their search for Tim.

Well, if he was right, and he was sure he was, then, NCIS was going to help him out. He didn't much like the idea of people watching him all the time. If he was doing their dirty work, the least they could do was keep people off his back, especially in his off-duty time.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Gibbs, I've got a monkey on my back and it's your job to get him off."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

John looked at his hands. After a few weeks of farm work, the blisters had begun hardening to callouses. They didn't have the same tough, weathered look that Stephen's did, but they were changing as he eased into the only life he knew. He knew that it wasn't his life, but right now, he didn't care. Having a place he was starting to feel a part of meant a lot to him. In spite of what others were telling him, he couldn't reconcile not being missed. There were people here who seemed to like him and accept him. Maybe the little bits he'd remembered would get filled in, but if not, as long as they were safe, he didn't see that as necessarily a negative. Maybe he could fill in the lost memories with new ones. Happier ones.

Maybe.

John sighed and looked into the mirror in the bathroom. He'd taken off his shirt and now stared at the scars on his chest. Those things were bound up in what he didn't know. He still didn't really have a good sense of himself. There was so much of who he was that was tied up in experiences he couldn't remember. How could he really know who he was without knowing what he had done in the past? Was he a good person? Was he a criminal? What had he been interested in? What job had he done? Had he been unemployed? Was he homeless? Did he have family? Friends? Had he been a loner? Did he like to travel? Where was he from? Where had he lived?

When he let himself think of all the questions he had, that curl of dread and fear began to rise up and threaten to take over his brain. The fear was always there at the back of his mind. When he dwelled on the questions, it began to move up to the front, and that was when he would start to shake, start to feel the terrible fear of being adrift. He tried not to think about it when he was around anyone else. He didn't want to reveal how much he still felt the strain of not knowing who he was.

He closed his eyes tightly, and tried to slow down his breathing. The fear faded a bit and he thought he'd be all right for now. He opened his eyes and put back on his shirt, then, walked to the door and opened it, but then, the fear hit him again and he had to close his eyes.

He was standing in the doorway, holding the doorknob so tightly that he could feel the metal details imprinting on his palm. Just the panic of being lost. Of being forgotten as thoroughly as he had forgotten himself.

"John?"

He tried to force the fear to go where he usually kept it, in the back of his mind. He just couldn't do it fast enough.

"John, are you all right? What's wrong?"

He couldn't even speak, there was so much fear coursing through him.

"John."

"Who am I?" he managed to whisper. "Who am I?"

Gentle arms around him.

"You're a good man. Beyond that..."

He gradually felt the panic ebbing and he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Kelly was holding him. As soon as he relaxed, she let him go.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I let myself think too much," he said.

"About what?"

"About what I don't know. I try not to, but sometimes...it's all I can think of. And it makes me feel sick."

"Not the best way to start the day, I'm guessing."

John laughed a little. "Understatement...but I'm okay. Thanks for...grounding me."

"My pleasure."

John noticed that Kelly wasn't scared of his having yet another momentary breakdown. She was just taking it in stride.

 _I guess you can get used to anything with time._

"You're up in time to eat breakfast with everyone. You ready for that?"

"I think so," John said.

"I won't tell them what happened," she said.

"Thanks." John followed her to the kitchen.

Breakfast was a simple affair. Filling, as always, and John ate every bit he was served, remembering to express gratitude for Marilyn's efforts this time. He didn't always think of it because he was so focused on eating. After breakfast, Stephen said that they were going to be moving the cattle into the pastures to graze, and if John could manage the horse this time (his first attempt at riding had been pretty miserable), they could use his help in getting the job done.

Of course, John agreed, although he was more than a little ambivalent about trying to ride again. He could still feel the bruises from the first horse he'd "ridden". Still, it wasn't his place to complain. He just grimaced and followed them out to the horses. Paul and his family got there right as they reached the barn.

 _Great. More witnesses,_ John thought.

"You know what they say about riding horses, John?" Paul asked, correctly interpreting John's reluctance.

To John's surprise, there was something in his head, an actual normal response. "You get bucked off, you're supposed to get back on?"

Paul clapped for him. John bowed a little.

"Exactly. And I hate to tell you, but Dad's a firm believer in that saying."

"I figured."

Paul chuckled. John appreciated how easy Paul was with him. Nothing ever seemed to bother him, and it helped John feel more comfortable.

"Hey, you haven't met my family. This is my wife, Suzette, and our _extremely_ enthusiastic children."

John shook Suzette's hand and then, looked at the four kids. Only one looked eager to be there. A boy about ten years old. There were two older boys, twins, maybe thirteen, and a younger girl who looked to be maybe seven or eight.

"Matthew and Mark are the twins. They won't answer to whatever you call them; so it doesn't matter which is which. They're determined to be miserable this summer."

The twins gave long-suffering sighs.

"Luke is next, and he wants to ride the horses."

"He can have mine," John said.

"Okay!" Luke said, eagerly.

"No," Suzette said, firmly. "And last but not least is Ruth. She's undecided. Aren't you."

Ruth shrugged and said nothing.

"This is John."

One of the twins looked at him with a bit of curiosity.

"Are you the one who doesn't know who you are?"

John glanced at Paul.

"Matthew, where did you hear that?" Suzette asked sharply.

"I was listening when Dad told you about him," Matthew said, with no apology.

Suzette sighed. "We really need to soundproof our bedroom. I'm sorry, John."

"That's all right. Yes, that's me," John said.

"Really?" Luke asked.

"Really."

"No idea?"

"None."

"Why?"

"I don't know," John said and tried not to panic again. If Kelly had adjusted to his little fits, he was quite certain these kids wouldn't know how to take that, and he hadn't quite settled after his last panic attack.

"Don't pester him, Luke."

"Sorry."

"It's all right," John said, even though it wasn't.

All in all, John was ready to go back to bed and hide under the covers. This day had started badly and was getting worse. He was pretty sure it was going to continue on that track.

"Ready to get away from the awkwardness by getting on a horse, now?" Paul asked.

"I'm not sure that's going to relieve the awkwardness," John said.

"At least you'll get away from my kids."

"There is that." John looked back at Stephen who had saddled the horse they all claimed was the easiest to ride. He walked over.

"Ready to try again?" Stephen asked.

"Yeah. Okay."

John looked at the horse. He didn't _want_ to try again. He wanted to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground, but he approached the horse. He grabbed the reins and a bit of the mane with his left hand and the saddle with his right. His left foot was in the stirrup. He took a breath and pushed off. He managed to get upright on the saddle, none too glamorously, but he got there.

There was a round of applause. Thankfully, the horse didn't get spooked. That had been the problem last time. He'd been fine until something had scared the horse and it had jumped to the side. John had landed hard.

This time, the horse stood quietly while the others mounted. Stephen came over beside him.

"Okay, John. You'll be staying with Kelly at the back while we get the herd going. They know where we're going, but they tend to be stupid about it. Your job is to get ahead of the stragglers, keep 'em from wandering off. Kelly will do most of the chasing, but you need to keep your eyes peeled for them. Got it?"

"Got it."

"All right. Let's go!"

Kelly came up beside him on her horse.

"Don't worry, John. We'll keep you in one piece, although you might be regretting that by the end of the day."

John groaned, but he urged his horse to follow the others.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The man walked into the hospital. He smiled pleasantly at the nurse on duty at the main desk.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

"Yes. I hope so."

"What is it?"

The man adopted an earnest posture as he leaned on the desk.

"I'm looking for a friend of mine."

"What's his name?"

"Tim McGee."

She checked.

"I'm sorry. There's no one here by that name."

"Oh. I don't know whether I'm happy about that or not."

A look of concern appeared on the nurse's face.

"What's wrong?"

"He's not always in his right mind. Sometimes, he has problems. Mental problems. Do you have anyone here who hasn't been willing to give a name?"

She looked in the computer again.

"No, no John Does in the system right now. I'm sorry."

"That's all right. It's probably good that he's not in a hospital."

"The police department is two blocks north of here, if you want to report him missing."

"He's probably not missing, really. Obviously, _I_ can't find him, but that could just be because he's in one of his moods and doesn't want to talk to anyone. I'll keep looking, but it's good to know that he's not in a hospital."

The nurse shook his hand and the man left. So that was a bust. No Tim McGees. No John Does. There was a chance that the nurse was lying, but he saw that as rather remote. Their searches in the forest had come to nothing. He wasn't going to the police unless as a last resort, but it was time to get their people back East to double check on whether or not their escaped captive had been found.

If they got nothing there, it might become necessary to move more aggressively.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

John almost fell out of the saddle when they got back to the yard.

"Good work, John," Stephen said. "You can be done for the day."

"I'll take care of your horse," Kelly said. "Luke'll help me."

It wasn't quite evening yet, and maybe he should resent being treated like a wimp, but John had no intention of ever going near a horse again. He wanted to collapse on the ground right there, but he tried to walk normally to the house.

No one laughed at him directly, but he wondered if he'd ever feel like walking normally again. When he got inside, Marilyn was there. She had an understanding smile.

"Go and take a bath, John. Put some salt in the water," she said. "When you're done, just rub this where you're sore." She handed him a container.

"That'll help?"

"It should. If you've never ridden before, saddle sores are to be expected to some degree. If my husband keeps you doing it, you'll get better...eventually."

"Is this supposed to be good for me?" John asked, smiling a little.

"I believe the usual explanation is that it builds character."

"I think I'd rather not."

"I don't blame you. Character-building is rarely comfortable."

"Yeah." He took the salt and the ointment and limped to the bathroom.

After a bath and the ointment that Marilyn had given him, he felt a little more normal. Still sore, but he didn't think sitting down would kill him.

The table had been set up to serve a lot more people. Six extra, in fact. John hoped that Paul and Suzette would keep their kids from pressing him for details about what he didn't remember. He didn't like the reminders.

He heard a lot of voices coming to the house, and suddenly, he didn't want to be in company. He wanted to be alone. He backed away from the kitchen as quietly as he could and then, he hurried out of the house, to the canal. He walked to the middle of the check and sat down. The roar of the water blocked him off from everyone else. His legs dangled over the rushing water. Today had not been his best day...of the days he could remember. That panic in the morning had only emphasized how much this wasn't his life and he didn't belong here. Until he got a better idea of where else to go, he'd stay, but at the same time, there was a distance he felt from these people who fit into this world...because it was their own.

John leaned forward and stared at the water. He couldn't see his reflection because the water was too turbulent. He knew what he'd see if it were still, though: a man who had lost everything.

...including himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Where's John?" Kelly asked.

"I saw him slip out the back," Marilyn said. "I think he's longing for some solitude to nurse his wounds."

Kelly smiled. "Do you want to hold dinner for him?"

"I think I'll give him his privacy. After dinner, you can go and persuade him that it's safe to come inside."

"We didn't give him too much grief did we?" Paul asked. "Most of it was just teasing, like we'd do with anyone."

"I think he's just a bit miserable after his ride," Marilyn said. "He's decided he hates horses."

"The first day is always the worst," Kelly said, but she wondered if that were the only reason...especially after what happened that morning. "I'll go see if he wants any company. If he does, then, I'll wait and eat with him."

"You sure? We can wait," Paul said. "None of us are starving, in spite of what my kids will claim."

Kelly laughed. "No, I'm sure. This is the first time there have been people from off the farm who have seen him. He might be feeling self conscious, too."

Paul nodded. "The kids didn't help that, I'm sure."

"Probably not," Marilyn said. "It'll still be about five minutes before we're ready to eat. If you come in, you can join us."

"Okay."

Kelly walked out of the house and wandered toward the canal, thinking that John might be there again. She saw him sitting on the check. He looked up and saw her coming. Instead of waiting for her to join him, he got up and walked off the check.

"Sorry that you had to come and look for me. I'm not really hungry right now. You can eat without me," John said.

"Based on how you've approached every meal since you've joined us, I doubt that," Kelly said with a smile. "But you don't have to go in right now, if you don't want to."

He sighed with relief and did smile a little.

"Am I that obvious?"

"Only because I saw what happened this morning. The others just think you're embarrassed about being saddle sore."

"That, too."

Kelly laughed. "Do you want to be alone? I don't have to be here. But if you'd like the company, I can stay."

"Do _you_ want to eat? You were doing most of the work today. I was just trying to stay mounted...although my butt is regretting having succeeded."

Kelly chuckled. "I'll eat when I'm ready. It's no sacrifice to wait a bit."

John was quiet for a moment or two.

"I'd like some company."

"Okay."

"Could you show me where you found me?"

"Sure. It's up this way."

They started a slow meandering walk on the dirt road beside the canal.

"I've been here for almost two months," John said. "I thought I'd...be remembering more...but at the same time... I almost don't want to. But..." He shook his head. "My head is so mixed up. It's not even just the amnesia although that doesn't help. I...I envy you, Kelly."

"For what?"

"For...having a place you belong, people you belong with. I know you've had a lot of problems, but you had someplace you could go to get away from those problems, to regroup...and it's with people you know and love. I've been welcomed here and, don't get me wrong, I appreciate it, but...but the more I'm here, the more I know it's not where I belong. There's a place I came from." He smiled a little. "A place where there are apparently fifty rules to follow, a place where I'm apparently not missed, a place where I could be tortured for an unknown reason. I don't know how good that place was, but there's something I'm missing from it. _I'm_ missing from it." He climbed up the canal bank and stared out over the water. "I should go and try to find it, but...but I can't because I don't know what I'll find out there. I'd be willing to give up almost anything to avoid feeling any more of the pain that I remember. Anything."

He stared out at the view without seeing and then returned to the road and kept walking. Kelly watched him. She didn't know how to help him or solve his problems. The conflict he still felt about whether to stay or go, the fears he still had, and the conviction that no one from his life cared about him...they were all things she didn't know how to fix. Walking beside her, he was taller than she was by a few inches. He had a narrower build than she might have thought, but he was far from small. If she didn't know he had amnesia, she'd never guess, looking at him, that he was having the kinds of struggles he had.

"Here's where I found you," she said, pointing to the bank.

John climbed up the bank where she indicated and looked at the canal. Then, he sat down on the bank, wincing a little as he did so. Kelly kept herself from smiling at his discomfort. It wasn't his fault that he'd obviously never ridden before. She sat down beside him.

For a long time, he just sat there, staring at the water. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. All his thoughts were turned inward. She didn't mind waiting while he thought. If that was what he needed, she was okay with that.

"I can't leave yet," he said finally.

"You don't have to."

"Good...because when I think about leaving the farm, I feel almost as sick as I do when I think about how much I don't know about myself. I feel so...isolated...even from myself. I still feel adrift, lost at sea. I just don't know how to...get onto land again." He took a shaky breath.

Kelly remembered how John had calmed with physical contact that morning. She slid closer to him and slowly put an arm around him, letting him reject that contact if he didn't want it when he was thinking straight. There was a moment without reaction and then he leaned against her and sighed.

"What's going to trigger my memories, Kelly? What will bring me back? Will _anything_?"

"You've started remembering a few things. More will come."

"After how long?"

"I don't know, but you'll have as much time here as you want."

John put an arm around her.

"Thanks."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony watched carefully as Fornell pulled up to the house in Maryland yet again and headed inside.

" _You see him, DiNozzo?"_

"Looking."

" _Look harder. Silver four-door. Heading north."_

Tony tracked in on the car. It slowed down as it passed Fornell but didn't stop. Then, Tony noticed a person on the sidewalk. It was pretty subtle but there was definitely more interest in Fornell's movements than one would expect, even if the house had been a crime scene a few months before.

"I hate to admit it, Fornell, but I think you're right. You've got some tails and they're not bad."

" _Good. Now, what are you going to do about it?"_

"We're going to tail the tails. Maybe they'll get us closer than we've been before."

" _Well, you'd better hope that they don't see you if it's about your missing agent."_

Tony nodded. "It has to be about McGee. There's no other reason for them to be following you, unless you're hiding something from us." He sighed. "His parents call us every week, and I don't know if I can stand telling them that we still have nothing."

" _Well, if you get them to leave me alone, I'll wish you luck."_

"We'll do that, but it might take a few days."

" _I'll be patient."_

Tony grinned. "Okay, Fornell. Thanks."

" _My pleasure."_

Tony hung up and then called Gibbs.

"Boss, there's something to this. I've got pictures and people to follow. It has to be about McGee."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Marilyn, come over here," Stephen said from his position in front of the window.

Paul and Suzette had taken their kids home. They'd be staying up on the farm for the weekend, but they were easing their children into the idea of working on the farm for the whole summer. Jeff was in his room, playing on his cell phone. John and Kelly still hadn't come back in.

"What is it?" Marilyn asked. She joined him. "Oh, good. They're coming back. I'll make sure their dinner is warm."

Stephen grumbled a little.

"What's _that_ noise?"

"They're walking awfully close together."

Marilyn looked. John and Kelly _were_ quite close, especially considering the fact that neither of them tended to seek out close contact.

"They're not holding hands or anything, Stephen."

Stephen _humph_ ed and Marilyn chuckled.

"They're both adults and if they are taking some comfort in each other, that's no business of yours."

"As long as that's as far as it goes."

"What are you implying, Stephen Hoopes?"

"It wasn't too long ago that Kelly had a boyfriend who dropped her when she chose to be honest. That piece of..."

"None of that," Marilyn interrupted. "I don't accept that language from my children and I'm not having my husband use it, either."

"I would have gone and said it to _him_ if you hadn't stopped me. We let him into our _home_ , and he treated her like dirt."

"And you would probably have tried to hit him, and then, you would have been arrested and given how he felt about Kelly, he would have pressed charges and our daughter would have had to worry about her father in addition to everything else."

" _I_ would have felt better."

"I'm sure you would have. John is _not_ Robert."

"But, for all we know, for all _he_ knows, he could be married, in a relationship...or something else."

"That's true, but you're making a lot out of two people walking beside each other. Kelly has someone to take care of, instead of being the one needing help. John has someone to lean on, the person who saved him. They're comfortable with each other and that's important for both of them. Don't you start asking them questions that will only make them feel awkward. If something happens, it'll happen. If not, then, you have nothing to worry about."

He still didn't move away from the window.

"Stephen, relax. Your daughter isn't stupid, and John strikes me as a very intelligent man. Leave them be. If you give them something else to worry about, you'll have to face me."

Stephen finally looked away from the approaching pair and smiled at his wife.

"I know that's a dangerous thing."

"Yes, it is. Now, I'm going to get their dinner warmed up. You leave them alone."

"Yes, ma'am."

Marilyn went back into the kitchen and listened carefully when the front door opened.

"We were wondering if we'd have to send out search parties," Stephen said.

"We were by the canal," Kelly said lightly.

"Of course you were," Stephen said. "I swear that you must have been a fish in another life."

"A fish? We don't get too many fish in the canal, Dad."

Marilyn smiled. As she had hoped, Stephen wasn't mentioning his worries. He was being his usual self.

"That's because you're a human right now, not a fish."

Kelly laughed.

"I'll keep that in mind, Dad. You ready for dinner, John?"

"Yeah. I'm ready."

"You sound starved."

"Dinner is ready!" Marilyn called.

John looked very hungry when he came into the kitchen, but he first looked at Marilyn.

"I hope it wasn't too much trouble, making you wait."

"No problem at all, John. Paul was hoping that we hadn't been too rough on you in teasing about your first day in the saddle."

"No, I'm used to teasing," he said. Then, his eyes widened at what he'd said. "I am. I can almost see it...almost hear something..." He closed his eyes and his brow furrowed. "What is it?"

There was a period of silence. Kelly was standing behind him, looking hopeful. John's eyes were closed as he tried to bring something out of his brain. After a couple of minutes, though, he sighed.

"No. It's gone. These little bits and pieces are almost worse than not knowing _anything_...because I know that there's all this stuff I'm missing."

"That's another piece," Kelly said, gently. "Eventually, they'll all come back."

John sighed again, this time with frustration. He made a fist and punched his other palm a few times. Then, he looked at Marilyn with a bit of a hapless smile.

"Dinner?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. It was sad to see him struggle so much, but she appreciated the fact that time seemed to be bringing back little bits. Time might, indeed, heal all wounds.

For now, she pointed to the table and set down the warmed up dinner plates in front of John and Kelly. They dug in eagerly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They walked into the local bar, hoping to hear gossip. More than two months and they were beginning to think that they'd never find him. This week was the last time they would be taking the time to _find_ him. After that, if they failed, they'd have to accelerate their timetable which was less than ideal.

They approached the bartender.

"What can I get you fellas?"

"Two beers, please. Whatever you've got on tap. Cold."

"Coming right up. Don't recognize you two."

"Just passing through. Road trip."

"Better not be driving after drinking in here."

He laughed. "Nope. Got a hotel for the night."

The bartender smiled and gave them their beers. They started drinking and listening to the conversations going on around them. Everyone was pretty easy with each other. After about an hour, they finally got something.

"Yeah, he's an odd duck. Just showed up on the farm one day, not sure when. Don't know why he's staying with the Hoopes family. Seems kind of strange. Keeps to himself and doesn't seem to like attention. He's definitely not a farmer by training. He was pretty entertaining on the horse while we were moving cattle the other day. The only thing more entertaining than him falling off the horse was that he managed to stay on. He looked like a sack of flour."

The men in the bar laughed.

"He didn't find it very funny, though."

"Rude?"

"Nah. Just kind of nervous around people. I've only seen him a few times on the farm. He tends to keep to himself. Probably see him more once we have to start irrigating. Could be a relative."

"Nah, the Hoopes family is all local going back too far for him to be a cousin or something. Maybe a friend of Kelly's. She's been back for a while, but she was back in Illinois, you know...before all that."

There were knowing nods. Small towns where everyone knew everything about everyone.

It was worth an attempt to join the conversation.

"Hoopes? That's an interesting name."

"I guess if you're not from the area. Stephen Hoopes. His grandfather, Elmo Hoopes, first started farming here. He's a third generation farmer. Kind of strange himself. Some people say that he had some bad experiences when he was younger and he doesn't like crowds anymore. Nice enough. Fair to work for. Pays really well, but you won't find him coming here, ever. Too many people around. He barely leaves the farm. His wife is around a lot more. All their kids went through the schools here, though."

"Interesting people around here."

"You two city folks?"

"Mostly. Definitely city compared to here, but I like the beer." He toasted the bartender.

The little bit of tension that had developed faded with the acknowledgment of the quality of the local brew. They finished and then, after another half hour, excused themselves. That sounded like a good place to look, but with a suspicious farmer to get through, they'd have to plan their approach.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Okay, Ellie, you stay in the car. We're not arresting them right now, and if you mess this up, I will personally kill you," Tony said.

"I'm not _stupid_ , Tony. I just got a little excited before."

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, a _lot_ excited. But that doesn't mean that–"

"Wait. They're calling. Get ready to start tracing."

They both quieted down while Tony aimed the receiver at the house. They had been watching the two men who had been following Fornell for two days now. This was the first time that they'd had any contact with someone else. It was clear that Tim wasn't at their current base of operations. Hopefully, this call would give them some sign of where he might be.

" _Yeah, we're both here. He wants us on speaker. Get over here, Will."_

" _Yeah, yeah. Have you found him?"_

Tony felt his stomach twist. Found him? Had Tim escaped and they didn't know it and weren't looking for him?

" _No, not yet."_ The voice over the phone was slightly distorted through the receiver, but they could still hear. _"We have a plan. We may know where he is. If we're right, we'll take care of it. If not, we'll have to move. What about the guy you've been following?"_

" _Turns out he's in the FBI."_ There was a sneer in the tone. _"Figures."_

" _We're not taking care of the FBI yet. That's later. We deal with one division of corruption at a time."_

"Whoa," Ellie said. "That's not what I expected to hear."

"Sh. Quiet."

" _So you want us to leave him alone?"_

" _Yes. We don't want to tip our hand. All they know right now is that we've kidnapped a guy. They have no idea why."_

"Have you found where that call is from yet?"

"Working on it."

"Sounds like they're wrapping up. Work faster."

Ellie actually managed to nod without commenting. Tony was glad. This was their best bet, and if Tim was free, then, it was important that they know where he had disappeared from.

" _How much longer?"_

" _We're trying tomorrow. If subtle doesn't work, we'll be obvious."_

" _So...are you going for recapture or just killing him and getting it over with?"_

" _No point to try and get him back. We didn't really get what we wanted, but we got a start. It'll be harder, but we can still succeed. We take our time and even without an agent's knowledge, we can do what we need to do. He's more trouble alive than he's worth. Killing him will still be worth it."_

" _Do we still follow the FBI guy?"_

" _No. No point. They clearly have no idea where he is. That means he's most likely still out here...or else trying to get back to DC. So keep your eye out for that, but don't worry about the FBI. They'll get what's coming to them later. Start small and build up to the big one."_

" _Got it."_

The call ended abruptly and Tony looked at Ellie.

"You'd better have traced that call," Tony said.

"Montana."

"Montana?"

"Yeah. Southwestern Montana."

"How did they get McGee out _there_?"

"Are you really asking?"

"No. I don't care, but if he's been free, for a while, it sounded like, why wouldn't he have contacted us?"

"Are you really asking?" Ellie asked.

"Yes. Wait, no. More importantly, we need to get out there and find him. You have the exact location?"

"Within a mile."

"Good enough." Tony pulled out his phone and called. "Fornell, how generous are you feeling?"

" _How generous are you expecting?"_

"You're going to let us use your plane."

" _I don't know how many times I have to tell you, DiNozzo, the plane doesn't belong to me. It's FBI property."_

"McGee is or was in Montana. We need to get out there. He apparently escaped but the guys who had him think they know where he is. We need to find him first. And there's something real big going on here. More than McGee being abducted. They're planning something really big, starting with NCIS, I guess...but the FBI's on their radar."

There was a long silence.

" _I'll be at NCIS in an hour."_

"Okay." Tony hung up.

"Back to NCIS?" Ellie asked.

"Yep. Let's go. If we're getting to Montana in time, then, we need to get ready. Now."

"In time for what?"

"That's 64,000 dollar question."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So...you really like milking the cows more than riding the horses?" Kelly asked.

John laughed. "Yes. Very much so. The cows are nicer."

Kelly laughed as well. "You can say that because you don't have to ride the cows."

"That's an interesting image."

John got up and walked with Kelly to the door of the barn. Then, he paused.

"What is it?"

"Kelly...this might be the wrong time to say this, the wrong situation. In fact, it might be the worst idea I've ever had, not that I'd know, but...well, I've been thinking and..."

John trailed off and then backed away from the barn door, almost tripping in his haste to get back into the barn. Kelly looked toward the yard and saw her dad standing with two men in the yard. She didn't recognize them.

"John, what is it? Do you know those men?"

"I've seen one before." He almost dropped the pail of milk and then backed away until he ran into the wall, a look of terror on his face.

"Not one of your friends, then."

He shook his head.

"I can't see him again. Don't let him see me. Don't let him find me."

"Okay. You stay here. I'll go talk to my dad."

John slid down the wall to the floor. He was terrified, almost out of his mind, and that, more than anything else, told Kelly that these men were not friends. They were the men who had given him those scars. She would swear to it.

Quickly, Kelly ran out of the barn and over to where the two men were talking. Hoping that she wasn't too late, Kelly called out.

"Dad!"

Stephen looked over as she approached.

"Dad, I need to talk to you. It's important."

Stephen looked at the two men.

"Sorry. If you'll wait a minute."

"Of course."

Stephen walked over.

"What is it, Kelly? They were just about to tell me what they want."

Keeping her voice low, Kelly glanced over at them. They looked so normal.

"John recognized them."

"Not in a good way?"

"No. He's terrified."

"Okay. Go back and stay out of sight. I'll take care of it."

Kelly nodded and hurried back to the barn. John was freaked out, and she couldn't reach him. He was shaking and just staring. He wasn't seeing anything. She sat down beside him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. Sometimes, that was all there was to do.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Sorry about that," Stephen said. "There's always an emergency of some kind on a farm. Now, what can I do for you two?"

"Well, maybe nothing, but we're hoping you can help."

"With what?"

"We're looking for a friend of ours. He has some problems and sometimes wanders off. His name is Tim McGee."

Stephen feigned polite concern. "I don't know the name."

"He's about your height. Blond hair, green eyes."

He shook his head. "Don't know anyone with that description."

"Are you sure?" one of them pressed. "No new hired hands or anything?"

Stephen narrowed his eyes. "Now, look here. I may have to accept people questioning my word when I leave this farm, but on my own land, I expect my word to be respected. I just told you I don't know the man you're looking for. That's the end of it."

The two men backed off instantly.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. If you haven't seen him, we'll keep looking. Thanks for your time."

"You're welcome," Stephen said coldly.

He watched as they got back into their car and drove away. Then, he headed for the barn. He found Kelly sitting with John on the floor. John had that distant, terrified expression on his face, the one that always meant he'd been pushed beyond his ability to cope with whatever partial memory he'd retrieved.

Stephen walked over and knelt down.

"John?"

"He hasn't responded, Dad. Not to anything."

Stephen decided to try the name he'd been told.

"Tim McGee?"

John blinked and looked at him.

"Is that your name?" Stephen asked.

"What?"

"Tim McGee."

John was quiet for a few seconds, thinking about the name.

"It feels right," he said finally, in a low voice. "John hasn't ever felt right, but Tim feels right. ...but I still don't remember."

"You said you'd seen them before."

John nodded. He still wasn't really seeing around him. There was too much going on in his head, Stephen figured. John struck him as a thinker, always thinking, always something to consider...and sometimes, those thoughts got overwhelming.

"Then, who are they? I'd like to know why I had to lie to perfect strangers."

"I don't...don't know...exactly. I saw him and...and I remembered the pain." John brought his hands up over his mouth, muffling his disjointed words. "I could almost see him...a dark room. Windows covered. No chairs. A table. I was tied to it, sometimes. There was a room...but there was him. There. Wherever it was and I couldn't...get away from him. I couldn't get away. I can't get away. No matter what I do. There's always more. More pain. More pain. More pain."

"Tim, wake up," Stephen said, patting his cheeks gently. "Come on. It's not happening, now."

Kelly tightened her arms around him, but he kept breathing heavily until he spasmed once and seemed to come out of it.

"My name is Tim," he said in a shaky voice. "That's my name. It's not John."

"All right, Tim. I'm fine with using your real name, if that's it. What do you want to do, now? I don't know if they were convinced by what I said."

"I don't know," Tim said. "What _should_ I do?"

"Well, I'm not one to suggest calling the police, but if they're around here and looking for you, it might be a good idea to get someone here."

"Who? We don't want to let them know that we're sure," Kelly said. "If they're _not_ sure that he's here and they see a police car showing up here, they'll be suspicious."

"I'll call Hank and tell him to come without a police car. If he shows up just with his own car, he'll be a visitor."

"Who's Hank?" Tim asked.

"Deputy in town. He used to work for Dad," Kelly said.

"Best hired hand I ever had," Stephen said. "You all right with talking to him?"

"I won't be able to tell him much," John...Tim said. "I barely know my own name."

"We'll tell him what we can. Are you up for that?"

"If you think that's best. I could just go. I don't want you guys getting hurt if...if they're after me."

"Not happening, not until we've got your friends here to help you."

"How will we find them? I still don't know who they are...if they even exist."

"They exist," Stephen said. "Let's get you into the house and then, I'll call Hank."

"What if they're watching?" Tim asked.

"Get on your feet," Stephen said.

Tim had shown more nerve before, but he was still half in the memory of something he didn't understand. Stephen wished that he could have known Tim before all this...or just with his memories intact. Tim was only a shell of himself, still a good man, but missing so much.

He saw some sign of it when Tim took a breath and stood up. He squared his shoulders and exhaled heavily.

"Okay," he said.

They walked out of the barn and into the house. Stephen called Hank and emphasized that he needed to be discreet.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly sat with John...with _Tim_ on the couch in the living room.

"I was used to John," she said with a smile.

Tim smiled weakly. "I was almost used to it, too."

"You're sure that Tim is your name, then?"

"It feels so much more right than John."

"Then, I'll get used to calling you Tim."

"Thanks. I lost it again. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. That was a shock. You didn't expect to see that man, whoever he is."

"No, I didn't, but I dreaded it, even if I couldn't remember who he was."

"It's going to work out...Tim."

"I don't know. I feel like...there's a lot more danger now than there was before. They came _here_. They've got so close. What if they come back? What if they take me again? He...He didn't kill me, but he might as well have with what I remember. I don't want that again."

"It won't happen again, Tim. I promise. Dad won't let it."

"But I don't want you to get hurt because you're trying to help me."

Kelly smiled. "Don't sell us short."

"I'll try not to."

"Good."

Kelly took Tim's hand and squeezed it.

"You're not alone in this, Tim. You never will be."

Tim looked at their clasped hands and covered them with his other hand.

"I can't tell you how many times I've felt so grateful that, of all the places I could have ended up, I ended up here."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Stephen was outside changing the oil filter on one of his tractors when Hank pulled up.

"Hey, Stephen! Make sure you turn the filter the right way to get it off!"

Stephen turned and smiled.

"You'll never let me live that down, will you."

"I can still hear you saying it would only take about ten minutes. ...and then, an hour later, you realized you were trying to turn the filter the wrong way."

Hank walked over and shook Stephen's hand.

"Everyone makes mistakes," Stephen said. "Even me...sometimes."

"Yeah. Now, what did you want me to come here for? I'm not in the habit of ditching the company car and using my own gas."

Stephen laughed, but directed Hank inside before he answered the question.

"What's up, Stephen?" Hank asked, getting that this was serious.

"I may need your help."

Hank's eyes widened. "It's not every day you're willing to ask _anyone_ for help, let alone the police, even if it's me. I'm assuming that you're wanting my help in my official position?"

"Yes, but quietly."

"Why?"

"Kelly found a man in the canal a couple of months ago, tangled in some debris. Seemed to have been stuck there for a while. During that big storm, remember?"

"Sure."

"We got him out and inside. He was cold and banged up a bit, but we didn't think he needed a hospital."

"And he's still here. Two months later."

"Yeah."

"This the guy that you had trying to ride a horse the other day?"

"How did you know about that?" Stephen asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Some of your workers were talking about it in the bar the other night."

"Who?"

Hank shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to tell you, Stephen. You'll just get upset and go off half-cocked and probably fire guys who are guilty of nothing but chatting."

"I don't like people talking about my business."

"They're _not_ , Stephen. They're talking about their work day, and there was a guy who couldn't ride who was doing his best...and looking pretty silly while he did it, based on their descriptions. They were having fun. That's all. They're not talking about you, gossiping or anything like that. You're too paranoid about it, and you have been ever since I worked for you."

Stephen took a breath and nodded. "Before you were working for me."

"I guessed that," Hank said, dryly.

"You're not going to tell me who they were?"

"No. You want to talk to the whole crew about it, that's your choice, but I'm not going to help you do an injustice to good men. Now, if this is about that man, what is it? And why did you keep him here? I can understand your not wanting to involve the police in it, but a perfect stranger?"

"He asked for help."

Hank smiled a little. "And for all your flaws, I can't imagine you saying no to someone asking for help."

"The problem is all we could do was give him a place to stay. The biggest problem we can't help with."

"Why? What's the biggest problem?"

"He doesn't know who he is or where he came from. He has no memories."

"Amnesia? Really?"

"Yeah. What little he does remember is...not pleasant."

"What if he's been reported missing? And you've just been keeping him here?"

"Paul checked. No missing person report for anyone like him."

"I wonder why not."

"He assumes that no one cares about him."

"I hope he's wrong."

"Me, too."

"And what's got you telling me about this now?"

"Come on in and meet him. I want to show you something to explain why it's important enough to me to ask you for help."

"Okay."

They walked back to the living room. Kelly and Tim were sitting on the couch. Tim still looked shaky, but he wasn't as pale as he had been before.

"Tim McGee, this is Deputy Hank Arnold."

Hank walked over and shook Tim's hand. Then, he sat down.

"So...what can you tell me?"

"Not much," Tim said. "I barely found out my name. I don't know where I'm from or why I'm important. I felt once that I should go east."

"East as in...east coast? Or east as in Fargo?"

"I don't know," Tim said. "I'm sorry. I really wish I could say something more about what makes me the way I am. I don't even know what made me forget."

Stephen leaned forward. "Tim, show him your chest."

Tim looked at Stephen and then at Hank.

"Why?"

"He needs to understand as much as we can tell him."

Tim hesitated and then nodded. He was wearing a t-shirt today. He had a selection of clothes from the plaid shirts that Stephen preferred to basic t-shirts. All jeans and work shoes. So, he sat up and pulled off his shirt. The scars had faded, but they were easily visible. Stephen was again shocked by the savagery evidenced by the scars all over Tim's body.

"What _are_ those scars?" Hank asked.

"We don't know for sure," Stephen said. "But it looks like some kind of electric shock. The scars look a lot like the scar I have from a cattle prod."

Hank swore softly...and then looked around.

"Marilyn's grocery shopping. You're safe," Stephen said.

Hank smiled but the smile lasted a short time as he looked at Tim's body. He shook his head.

"I can see why you're being careful. What happened to make you call me, then?"

Tim put his shirt back on.

"We think the people who did this to him were here this morning, looking for him," Stephen said.

"I saw them and...and I almost remember them being the ones who...who hurt me," Tim said.

"Almost?" Hank asked.

"I don't know how else to describe it. I don't really remember them at all, but I _feel_ something about them, and I'm afraid of them. As soon as I saw them..."

"And I don't know if they believed me when I said I didn't know who they were talking about," Stephen added.

"Okay. What do you want me to do?" Hank asked. "Do you want protection?"

"No. We can handle that. There's only two of them."

"But..."

"I said we'll handle it, Hank."

"So what do you want from me?"

"I want you to see if you can find where Tim belongs. Who knows him? We don't know _why_ all this was done to him, but if we could figure out where Tim should be, we could get him there."

Hank looked at Tim. Kelly had an arm protectively around his shoulders. He smiled.

"Looks like he's being taken care of pretty well already."

"They've done more than I could ever have expected," Tim said in a low voice.

Hank nodded.

"I can ask...discreetly if anyone is looking for him...but..."

"What if I'm not what we're assuming I am?"

"Exactly."

Stephen looked at Tim, letting him make that decision.

"All I know is that I will do anything to keep myself from...from feeling the...the pain they caused. I don't know if that means that I'm a criminal and I have to go to prison. The pain I remember is worse. If there's some way to find out who I am...I need to know."

"Okay. That's what I needed to know. If you don't know who you are, then, I don't know what I'll find...if anything."

"Whatever you can do," Kelly said.

"Okay. How are _you_ , Kelly?" Hank asked. "Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Been busy, but I'm fine."

"No more calls?"

"Not since I changed my number."

"Good." Hank stood up. "Okay. You've managed to make _my_ life difficult. ...but I'm glad you trusted me enough to ask, Stephen. I know you wouldn't do that if you didn't feel you had to."

"I'll walk out with you."

Stephen got up and walked with Hank to his car.

"You think you could describe these men?"

"Sure could. Couple inches shorter than me. Average in looks. One had short dark hair, the other a bit longer and light brown. Strong men, I'd wager. They had solid builds. Not like a football player, but they're not soft. Normal clothes. Jeans, t-shirts, jackets. The car was a rental."

"Okay. About this Tim McGee..."

"Yeah?"

"You're sure he's genuine? I mean, he seemed honest to me, but..."

"As sure as we can be. He's had nightmares, Hank. One night, he walked in his sleep to the bathroom, climbed in the bathtub and started screaming. He's had these flashbacks where he's so afraid that he can't even speak. It's been happening a lot and it's consistent. I don't think anyone could be that good at pretending."

"Well, I want to help, especially if he's what he seems. I'll see if I can find any information about him. What if he _is_ alone?"

"Then, tell me and we'll help him start his own life."

Hank smiled. "You're a good man, Stephen. Hard-headed, paranoid, and kinda irritating, but a good man."

Stephen smiled back and shook his hand again. "You could have done a lot better than become the deputy."

"I don't think so, but thanks."

Stephen stood back as Hank got in his car and drove away. Now, it was time to make plans to keep Tim safe until they could figure out what was going on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Fornell sat back with his game face on. They'd shown him everything they'd found, all that they knew. Gibbs wanted to force him to make a decision, but this was too important to fool around. If Fornell needed the time to think, he'd get it.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he leaned forward.

"What do you want to do about the guys here?"

"Arrest them, but after we're in Montana. I don't want either group getting tipped off that we're onto them," Gibbs said.

"How onto them _are_ we, really?" Ellie asked. "We know they're in Montana. We know that McGee _was_ in Montana, but we don't know if he still is. We don't know why him, what they're actually planning or anything!"

"We know who they are and we know that they had McGee. We know where to start looking for McGee and we know where to look for them," Tony said. "That's enough."

"But we don't know who _they_ are. The phone was a burn phone. Location, yes, but no information about who owns it. How will we know _them_?"

"The most important thing is to find McGee," Gibbs said. "We've got these guys here ready to take down. Lovitz' team is on standby. If McGee is free, then, we need to find him and find out why he hasn't come back."

Fornell hadn't said much so far, but he looked at Gibbs and then at Tim's image on the plasma.

"Okay. Let's go, then."

"Let's?" Tony repeated.

"You think I'm going to let you take _my_ plane without me on it?"

Gibbs smiled and they got up to leave.

"We fly into the Big Timber airport and that should get us close enough to where we got the signal tracked to."

"We could see if the local LEOs could give us a hand, too," Tony said.

Gibbs nodded.

It felt so good to be _doing_ something rather than waiting and hoping for something to change.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Hank sat back and looked at his monitor. He'd taken his time getting back to the office, just in case someone really _was_ watching the Hoopes farm and wondered who this stranger was. But now, he was back at his computer, and he was surprised at what he'd found when he typed in Tim McGee's name. First, he tried seeing if he had a record. Once he'd filtered through the other Tim McGees in the system, he was surprised to find the one he had just met. Or rather, he _wasn't_ surprised to see that he had a record. Hank could be suspicious of strangers, and so his first thought was that Tim's amnesia was a result of a crime gone awry or a falling out with cohorts. However, the record wasn't what he'd expected to see. Breaking into the Metro impound...in DC. That gave a location, but as he read more, he saw that he'd been arrested with an Anthony DiNozzo. No punishment beyond that they'd been held overnight. Further investigation revealed an actual identity.

"NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee," he said aloud.

That was about the last thing he'd expected, but there was his official file. He'd worked for NCIS in DC for ten years. How had he ended up in Montana? And why had no one in NCIS reported him missing? He should have been missed. It wasn't like he was a new employee. A decade working in the same place should have resulted in friends, coworkers who would have missed him at the least.

He didn't like that. The injuries he'd seen, no matter what the cause, would not have been pleasant, and that meant that Tim had been left to suffer them for who knew how long.

Hank decided to call NCIS Headquarters and see if he could get a hold of someone who could explain themselves to him. Before he told them where Tim was, he'd make them justify leaving a man in that situation.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Halfway to the airport, Gibbs' phone rang. He sighed but answered.

" _Agent Gibbs, you need to take this call."_

"Who is it?"

" _Deputy from Montana. Says he knows where Agent McGee is."_

"Where?"

" _He wouldn't tell me."_

"Why not?"

" _Because he said he needs some answers first."_

"Okay. Put him through."

"What's up, Boss?" Tony asked.

"Man says he knows where McGee is. In Montana."

Tony's eyes widened.

" _Agent Gibbs?"_

"Yes."

" _This is Deputy Hank Arnold from Big Timber in Montana."_

"You know where Agent McGee is?"

" _Yeah, I do, but I have a couple of questions first."_

"Why?"

" _Because of what I saw when I met him today."_

"What are your questions?"

" _How long has he been missing?"_

"Over eight months."

" _You left him in their hands for six months? Do you know what they did to him? Have you seen the scars on his chest and back from whatever they did?"_

"Six months?"

" _Yes."_

"He's been free for two months?"

" _More or less. Why was he never reported missing? They checked when they first found him and there was nothing. No sign."_

"Because we were warned not to. We saw what would happen if we did. We tried to search quietly, but we had nothing to go on."

" _Does he have family?"_

"Yes. They agreed that we should back off...if only to keep him from getting hurt worse."

Gibbs could feel everyone's eyes on him, wanting to ask him what was going on. He focused only on getting this man to trust him.

"Where is he?"

" _On a farm near Big Timber."_

"We're on our way out there now."

" _You are? How did you know?"_

"We traced a phone call."

" _Well, call me when you get here. I'll take you out. I doubt Stephen will believe you without someone to tell him it's true."_

"Why?"

" _Because he's suspicious."_

Hank gave Gibbs his phone number and then hung up. There was a lack of warmth in the interaction, but Gibbs was just glad to know that Tim _was_ free and that they could get to him. If Hank hadn't been exactly forthcoming on the details, he _had_ at least offered to help them.

"Well, Boss?"

"McGee is on a farm outside of Big Timber. The local deputy is going to take us out there when we land."

"You said six months?" Ellie asked.

"He's been free for two months, apparently."

"So why didn't he come back?" Tony asked.

"Deputy Arnold didn't say. We can ask when we get there."

"How long will it take?"

"At least six hours," Fornell said.

They reached the airport and headed for the plane. There was a real possibility of finding Tim alive and well. If there were unanswered questions still, they now felt they could get them answered.

Finally, things seemed to be going right.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We go there tonight. We're not waiting for them to move him somewhere else."

"If he's there."

"Best option we have. We see him. We take him out. Understood?"

They all nodded. This had been a bigger problem than they could have anticipated. If their plan was going to succeed, they had to get rid of any potential problems. A witness was a potential problem.

They wouldn't let one man ruin everything they'd worked for.

Quickly, they armed themselves and left the cabin. If they saw him, they'd kill him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

When Marilyn got back, Stephen explained what had happened. She was understandably concerned but accepted Stephen's decision to deal with it himself...at least for now.

Tim was unable to relax. When they left him to his own thoughts for any amount of time, he would start to tense up. The appearance of his captors had completely unsettled him. By dinnertime, he was a bundle of nerves. He said almost nothing at the table and left half of his food on his plate, uneaten. That was uncommon enough that they all knew he was troubled...with reason.

Finally, he stood up.

"Thanks for dinner, Marilyn," he said softly and then left the room.

They were quiet for a moment after he left. Then, Jeff gestured to Kelly.

"I'll help Mom clean up, Kelly. He likes you best."

Kelly flushed a little but stood up.

"Okay."

"Keep him inside," Stephen said.

"I'll wrestle him if I have to, Dad," Kelly said.

"I'd rather you not," he said with a raised eyebrow.

Kelly just smiled and left the kitchen. She walked into the living room, but Tim wasn't there. So she walked to his room. The door was closed. She knocked.

"Come in."

She opened the door. Tim was sitting on his bed, looking at his hands.

"Joh–...sorry, Tim."

Tim smiled at his hands. "It doesn't make much difference. Knowing my real name doesn't tell me who I am...or why people wanted to do all this to me." He held up his hands. "My hands are changing. They're more calloused. Maybe I've changed from who I was before, anyway. Maybe, it's not something I need to have back. Maybe, I'm better off _not_ knowing all that. Maybe..."

Kelly walked over and sat down beside him. She took hold of his hands.

"Tim, what were you about to say to me this morning?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just before those men showed up...you said you wanted to ask me something but you didn't think it was the right time."

"Oh, yeah. It's still not the right time...more now than before."

"I'm okay with things being at the wrong time."

Tim looked at her and then down at their hands.

"Okay...well...what I was going to ask is...if you might think about...if I was more than just someone you saved. If I meant more to you than that."

Kelly felt her stomach twist with the realization of what Tim meant. He wasn't looking at her. He seemed very uncertain which calmed her somewhat because she felt much the same, if not worse.

"I told you it was a bad time," Tim said, correctly interpreting the lack of response.

"I don't know, Tim," she said, honestly. "There are a lot of...possible problems with that."

"I know. Maybe I'm married, dating someone. Maybe I'm a real jerk and if I remember who I am, I'll be completely insufferable."

Kelly smiled and patted his hands.

"No, Tim. That's not what worries me."

"That I could be married? That's what worries me, although it doesn't feel like I am."

"No, that you're really a jerk. I doubt that losing your memory would change you fundamentally like that. If you were a jerk, I'll bet that would have come out, but it hasn't. You're a good man, Tim. Beyond the worry about your possibly having a significant other, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to get into that again. My last foray ended very badly."

Tim looked up at her and nodded silently.

"So...could you consider that a definite maybe?"

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He squeezed her hand...and then, turned toward the window...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The plane landed on the small runway and began to taxi. Tony looked out the window and grimaced.

"So this is Big Timber, huh? Never been here before...but then, I've never been to Montana before. So it might as well be here as anywhere."

Ellie leaned forward.

"I've been to Montana before. It's pretty, but there's a lot of empty space."

"I wasn't planning on staying," Gibbs said and got up as soon as the plane was no longer in motion.

The pilot came out and opened the door. When they got off the plane, they were surprised to see a man there waiting for them.

"Agent Gibbs?" he asked.

"Deputy Arnold," Gibbs said.

"Yep. You guys sure have the nice stuff back east."

"Not _my_ plane," Gibbs said.

"It's mine," Fornell said. "Agent Fornell, FBI."

"FBI? Why?"

"This isn't just about the abduction of an NCIS agent," Fornell said. "There's something bigger going on."

"So, I guess that means that you want to go up there tonight and not wait for tomorrow?"

"Unless you know of a reason not to," Gibbs said.

"The Hoopeses tend to go to bed early, but I guess they won't mind some intrusion. Come on. I'll take you out there. You'll be a bit jammed in the back, though."

"We can handle it," Tony said.

"All right."

They walked to the car.

" _Hank! Hank!"_

Hank looked at them and then jumped in the car.

"What is it, Maria?"

" _Van just reported shots fired at the Hoopes farm!"_

"On my way," he said. "You guys coming or staying?"

"That's where McGee is?"

"Yeah."

"We're coming," Gibbs said.

"Then, get in the car. I'm not wasting any time."

They all jumped in and headed to the Hoopes farm.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim wasn't sure where the movement came from. All he knew was that, as soon as he noticed the person in the window, he was moving. He was grabbing Kelly, pushing her down to the floor...and grabbing for something on his hip...something that wasn't there. He wasn't sure what he was trying to grab, but it wasn't there, whatever it was.

"What happened? Tim, what just–?"

"Stay down, Kelly," Tim said, surprised at the authority in his own voice. "We don't know if they're gone. Are you hit?"

"No...just a little bruised from you throwing me to the floor."

"Sorry," Tim said, but he was looking around for any sign of invasion. He still had his hand on his hip, even though there was nothing there. "The window's broken. I'm sorry."

The door to the room burst open and Tim whirled to confront whoever was there.

"Are you all right?" Stephen asked.

Kelly started to get up, but Tim pushed her down and grabbed for Stephen to get down as well. Then, he reached for the light and turned it off. It was hardly dark enough outside to matter, but Tim didn't care. These were things he was doing on instinct.

"Stay down!" he warned. "We don't know how many there are or if they'll try again."

"I didn't think they'd move so fast...if it's the same men we saw today," Stephen said.

"They're trying to kill me," Tim said. "And I don't even know what they wanted from me before."

"Okay. We should try and get you out of here. If we can get you to somewhere safe, maybe we can get them away from here," Stephen said. "I don't like having to rely on the police, but if they're shooting, we need the help."

They crawled out of Tim's bedroom to the kitchen where Jeff and Marilyn were also crouching on the floor.

"They're shooting?" Jeff asked.

"They missed," Kelly said, firmly.

"What are we going to do to keep it that way?" he asked.

"We're getting him out of here."

"How?"

"If we can get to the truck, we can drive."

"And if I'm not here, they won't be shooting at you, either."

"How are we going to do it?" Jeff asked.

"I'll get the shotgun. You get the revolver, Marilyn. The rifle is out in the barn. I don't think we want to risk getting to it right now."

"The pistol is upstairs, isn't it?" Kelly said.

"You think you can get to it?" Stephen asked.

"Yeah."

"Wait!" Tim said. "I don't want..."

"We don't put the target in view," Stephen said. " _You_ are what they want and that's what they're _not_ going to get. Probably the only reason they haven't just opened fire on the whole house is because they don't want a blood bath if they can avoid it. I have no problem with that myself. ...on their side."

Tim took a breath and watched as Kelly headed for the stairs.

"Tim, don't try to be a martyr. The world doesn't need as many martyrs as it gets," Stephen said. "It needs fighters."

"Meaning I shouldn't make a run for it."

"Exactly."

"Okay."

"You don't want them to get you. We don't want that, either, and I don't give in to people trying to force me to do something, not on my land, not in my home."

"I also don't want you guys getting hurt because of me. I don't want them to hurt you!"

"Then, go along with us and we'll work together."

"Dad, what do you want me to do?" Jeff asked.

"I want you to drive the truck."

"Okay."

In a few minutes, Kelly was back with the pistol in hand. Marilyn had the revolver, and Stephen had the shotgun.

The lights were off in the house. Stephen crawled to the window and peeked through. Tim watched.

"I see someone running by the barn."

"Don't shoot one of the hands," Marilyn warned. "They should be gone by now, but that's the last thing we want."

Stephen nodded.

"Identify yourself!" he shouted.

Tim came up beside him and looked into the yard. Instead of giving a reply, the man ran for the shadows. Stephen didn't hesitate. He fired the shotgun. There was no cry that would indicate a hit.

"Okay. Now, they know that _we're_ armed. Marilyn, Kelly, go to the door and get ready to cover Tim and Jeff when they make a run for the truck."

Tim and Jeff crawled to the door.

"When I tell you," Stephen said.

Tim looked at the Hoopes family, all prepared to risk their lives to save his, and he felt he couldn't let it stand like this.

"Stephen, I can't..."

"No, Tim," Stephen said. "This is _our_ decision." He fired out the window once and then looked back. "Go!"

Tim wanted to protest, but Jeff grabbed him and yanked him to the door.

"Come on!" he said.

Jeff opened the door and then they both ran for the truck. The passenger side was closest to the house and so they hurried to it. Tim straightened a little bit and there was a shot over his head. He dropped back to the ground. Then, there was a bad sound.

A gunshot...and a hiss. Followed by two more shots and hisses.

"They shot out the tires," Jeff said.

Tim looked at Jeff and then back at the house. He couldn't let these good people pay the price for his mental lapse. He didn't know why they wanted to kill him. He didn't know why they had tortured him. He only knew that he wasn't going to let anyone else suffer. Besides, if they just killed him, he wouldn't suffer like he had before anyway. He stood up and started to run away from the truck and away from the house.

"Tim! No!"

He kept running, but suddenly, he saw three cars, two with police lights, pulling into the yard.

"Drop your weapons! Federal agents! You're under arrest!"

There were more gunshots. He kept running, but then...

"McGee! Is that you?"

He stopped and turned around. In the glow of the setting sun, he could see shapes moving toward him. Hesitantly, Tim walked toward them. He saw the door of the house open and the Hoopes family running out to him.

"Tim! Are you all right?"

He looked toward them. He knew those voices.

 _But you know that other one, too. You've heard it before._

Kelly reached him first.

"Tim...why did you start to run? We were covering you."

"I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

"Except you?"

"Better the one actually involved, than anyone else."

She shook him a little.

"You...idiot," she said, but she hugged him. "I'm so glad you're all right."

"McGee!"

Tim turned to another voice he almost knew. Kelly stepped in front of him.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Agent Gibbs. NCIS," the man said. He got close enough that they could see what he looked like. He was about Tim's own height and older.

"You know me?" he asked.

Hank came running over.

"Kelly, are you guys all right?"

"We're fine. Did you get them?"

"Two are dead, but the other two are in custody. Don't think there are any more here."

Tim heard the conversation, but he was staring at Gibbs. He could _almost_ recognize him, but not quite.

"McGee," he said again.

"You know my name," he said.

"I should. We've worked together for almost ten years."

"We have?"

Gibbs' expression changed. His brow furrowed.

"Tim has amnesia," Kelly said. "He doesn't remember anything. Is he familiar to you, Tim?" she asked Tim.

Tim couldn't look away, but there was something building up inside him. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was getting stronger and stronger.

"I work with you?"

"You're on my team."

"You've known I was missing?" he asked, the feeling getting even stronger.

"Yeah. We've known."

"For how long?"

"You went missing over eight months ago."

"And you've known all that time?"

"We've known."

The strange feeling exploded into white-hot rage. Whatever it had been before, Tim was now furious. He lunged at Gibbs, not knowing why he was so angry until the words came out of his mouth while Hank held him back.

"You left me! You left me there! You left me with _them_! You let them do all that to me! You let them hurt me!" Other words came out of his mouth that he vaguely hoped Marilyn wouldn't hear, given her dislike of swearing, but he was trying and trying to get to Gibbs, to beat him and let him feel what he had felt.

There were more hands holding him back.

"Calm down, Tim. There's no need for that. Calm down."

Finally, Stephen's words penetrated the mindless fury and Tim stopped struggling. He pulled away from their hands and then ran the other direction, toward the canal, away from the man who had identified himself as someone he should know. He kept running, even though he could hear people calling him back. He didn't want to see these people who were apparently a part of his life and had left him to be tortured.

He ran until he got to the canal and he sat down on the bank, breathing heavily. He was still angry, but there was something more he was feeling and he couldn't explain it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Gibbs started to move after Tim, but Kelly stood in front of him.

"He clearly doesn't want to see you right now," she said.

"He doesn't know me, according to you."

"He knows that you didn't ever report him missing and so he was left in the hands of people who tortured him for months! I don't blame him for being angry," Kelly said.

"We didn't have a choice."

"You _always_ have a choice!" Kelly said. "That's the excuse you people like to trot out whenever you don't want to do something! There's always a choice and when you choose to do nothing, people get hurt!"

"Kelly, stop it," Stephen said, sharply. He knew why she felt the way she did, but even with his own reluctance to trust other people, he could see there was no cause for attacking a man who clearly felt awful about what had happened to his colleague.

Kelly did stop, but she was still upset and definitely wouldn't be able to stay calm after all that had happened. Better to get her out of the way.

"Why don't you go and find him," he suggested. "Calm _both_ of you down."

"All right." She stalked away in the direction Tim had gone.

"You got them?" Stephen asked.

"Yeah. We got them...if that was all of them."

"Good. I don't like people shooting up my home. How did you know to come here?"

"We were on our way, but we got a call of shots fired," Hank said.

"How did you know?"

"Because I asked Van to watch your place."

"I told you not to do that," Stephen said.

"And I ignored that because you were being stupid, Stephen. You don't tell me that someone is coming after a man and then expect me to do nothing, and I'm glad I did. That got us here much faster than we would have."

Stephen sighed. "Actually, I'm glad you did, too."

Hank turned to Gibbs.

"What are you going to do? Do you know when the last murder took place in this county? It's been at least a decade."

"We'll get our M.E. out here," Gibbs said. "If you could get someone to do the initial report and move the bodies to a secure location. With how big this case is, we...and probably the FBI will be taking over."

"Fine by me," Hank said. "We'll get started. Stephen, anything more you need from me?"

"One of those guys shot out my window."

"I'll make sure that you get a report for your insurance."

"Thanks."

"And you can decide if you'll let Marilyn make you use it."

Stephen smiled a little and then turned his attention on Gibbs.

"You said you didn't have a choice. My daughter has had some bad experiences with police, and I'm not inclined to be sympathetic, either. You can convince me, though."

"Do I need to?" Gibbs asked, a definite challenge in his tone. It was clear he saw himself as having priority and no need to explain anything to a stranger.

"Yeah, you do, because Tim has been _here_ with _us_ for the last two months. He doesn't know you right now. He knows us. _We_ have been taking care of him, keeping him safe. You haven't. As far as he's concerned, you left him to be tortured. So, yeah, you need to convince me that I shouldn't sweep you all off my property as soon as Hank's done here. I trust Hank, but I don't know you."

Another man ran over.

"Where did McGee go, Boss?" he asked. "I thought I saw him."

"You did, Tony. He needs some time. He's...upset."

"About what?"

"That we left him."

"We didn't leave him!" Tony protested.

"Then, what _did_ you do?" Stephen asked.

"We got a video showing what would happen to McGee if we didn't back off. So we backed off. To protect him!"

"Well, it didn't work," Stephen said bluntly. "When we found him, he'd been beaten and worse..."

"Parrilla," Tony said, his voice low. "Right?"

Stephen shrugged, not knowing the term, and rolled up his sleeve, showing his own scars. "Imagine this times about two or three _hundred_ and you'll know what his body looks like. He doesn't remember you. He's forgotten everything, and the few things he's remembered have been about what those people did to him. The only reason we got his name was because of those men coming to my farm looking for him. _That's_ what happened to him. Your backing off didn't help him, and all he had during the two months here was the feeling that if he had any friends or family, they had abandoned him. No one missed him."

"That's not true!" Tony protested. "You weren't there! We missed him every day! We were looking for him until we saw what they were threatening to do. We tried to work on it quietly so that they didn't use us as an excuse to make things worse, but we didn't know who had him or why. We don't even know how they got him in the first place! Whatever it looked like...it wasn't."

Where Gibbs had been stoic but clearly regretful, Tony was overtly upset at the implication that they had abandoned Tim. That, as much as anything he actually said, convinced Stephen that they were sincere.

"Let me go and talk to him. Maybe I can convince him to listen to you. He won't want to. When his feelings get the best of him, he doesn't really want to listen."

"Where is he?"

"He'll be at the canal. That's where we found him in the first place. You'll let me go first?"

Gibbs hesitated and then nodded.

"I'm sure you have official things to do. You can...go do them."

Hank laughed a little, but Stephen ignored him. He walked to the canal. He could see Kelly sitting beside Tim. They weren't speaking to each other. They were just leaning on each other, holding hands. Better that than to have them ranting to each other. Stephen wasn't much for just chatting, but he talked if talking was needed. Right now, it seemed to him that some talking was needed. A lot had changed in a very short amount of time, and if Tim wasn't ready to address knowing his past, he needed to take some time to think (and talk) it through.

He cleared his throat. The two of them jumped and turned back.

"Kelly, I need to talk to Tim. That all right?"

Kelly nodded.

"Go talk to your mother."

Kelly laughed just a little. "I'm not apologizing, Dad."

"Didn't ask you to. Now, go on."

Kelly hugged Tim tightly and whispered something to him. Then, she got up and walked down the bank to the road.

"I'm all right," she said before he could ask.

"Good." He patted her on the shoulder and then sent her on her way. After he was satisfied that she'd listened to him, Stephen climbed up the bank and then sat down.

For a few minutes, Stephen didn't speak, but when he saw that Tim wasn't going to start the conversation, he decided to get things going.

"Do you remember them?"

Tim shrugged and stared straight ahead. "Maybe. Don't know for sure."

"They seem familiar?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"Are you willing to see how much you do remember?"

"They left me. They knew I was missing," Tim said softly, the low volume covering up any shaking that might be present.

"They were trying to help."

"By leaving me to this?"

"They were threatened and they thought it might give them time if they backed off."

"Didn't work," Tim said softly, but the bitterness came through. " _It didn't work_."

"No, it doesn't look like it did, but it wasn't because they don't care about you."

"I don't know them. I don't know who they are. I don't know what I am to them."

"You've started remembering things when you're reminded of them. Maybe if you spend some time with them..."

"What if I don't _want_ to?" Tim demanded. "What if I don't care what they think or what they want? What if I don't want to go back to...wherever?"

"If that's what you want, I'm not going to try and convince you to do something else. ...but _is_ that what you want?"

Tim sighed and ran his hand over his head.

"I don't know. All I know is that they didn't...save me from what happened."

"Neither did we. From what anyone can tell at this point, you saved yourself. We were just there to pull you out of the canal."

"But you kept me safe."

"Anyone would have done the same. We're not special."

"They didn't."

"They would have if they had known where you were."

Tim looked at him.

"Why are you defending them? They're strangers."

"I know. ...but I saw something in that Agent Gibbs' eyes when you were shouting at him. Oh, he was shocked by what you tried to do, but more than that, I saw regret, not shame. He isn't ashamed of what happened. He wishes it hadn't. He doesn't bear any responsibility for what happened to you. And the other one, the younger one, he was surprised and hurt at the accusation. I could see the regret in them as easily as I could see the fear in you. The fear told me that you weren't someone I needed to worry about trusting. The regret tells me that they're being honest."

Tim said nothing for a while.

"I'm afraid to trust them."

"Why?"

"Because they left me."

"You've wanted to know who you are, where you came from. You should find out since you have the option."

"What if I don't like what I was before?"

Stephen smiled and thumped Tim's shoulder lightly.

"Then, you can come back here. Actually, even if you like your life, you're still welcome here, anytime."

"Thanks."

"But you have to leave in order to come back."

Tim smiled a little bit. Stephen saw some movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked back to the road and saw Gibbs. He hadn't stayed behind.

"Tim...there's someone here to talk to you."

Tim looked and his expression closed. It was fear causing him to retreat. If he still didn't remember everything, these people were more strangers to him than the Hoopes family was.

Stephen got up and walked down to the road. Tim watched him go but didn't move himself.

"Tim isn't sure about talking to you."

"We need to talk to him."

"We?"

"Not all at once, but he needs to hear what we have to say. We've got to start."

Stephen could see some of his own intransigence in Gibbs and he wasn't sure Tim would tolerate that right now.

"Take it easy on him. He doesn't know you. Not right now. Maybe he'll get his memories back, but right now, you're a stranger to him. He doesn't know if he can trust you. You're starting over. Remember that."

Gibbs just nodded.

"And remember one more thing."

"What's that?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "I consider Tim to be part of the family, and if you mess with my family, you mess with me...and you don't want to mess with me. This is my turf, and you don't have a prayer."

Gibbs replied with a similar raised eyebrow. "I'll keep that mind."

Stephen let him pass and watched as Gibbs walked up the bank and then sat down beside Tim. Tim didn't look at him and he even scooted a little away. It would be full dark soon, but maybe that would be a good thing for a start to something very difficult.

He gave them privacy, but he didn't leave the area completely. If Tim had a meltdown, he wouldn't be alone in it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Tim knew that Gibbs wasn't going away. He knew that sitting in silence wouldn't solve anything, but he still felt that fierce anger...and that other thing he couldn't explain.

"You left me there," he said finally.

"Left you where? What do you mean by that?"

"How can you ask that?" Tim demanded, still refusing to look at Gibbs.

"Because I want to know what you mean. We didn't _leave_ you anywhere. You were abducted."

"You left me."

"Think, Tim. There's a reason you picked that word. We don't know how they got you. Or why."

Tim bypassed the question and asked one of his own. "What do I do? What's my job?"

"You're an agent."

"But is that it?" Tim asked. "Isn't there something about me that would tell you why? Am I not good at anything?"

There was a chuckle. Tim almost looked at Gibbs. ...but he didn't. The voice was almost familiar. ...but it wasn't.

"You're a good agent, Tim. You're very good at the computer stuff, but there was nothing you were working on that explains what happened. You're the only one who knows...and them, too."

"I _don't_ know," Tim said angrily. "I don't remember!"

"Tim, I understand. I understand how you feel...at least a bit."

"Why? Why would you understand?"

"I lost my memory for a while. I got caught in an explosion."

That finally drew Tim's gaze.

"You did?"

"Yeah, but I didn't lose everything."

"What did _you_ lose, then?" Tim asked, feeling less intrigued and more belligerent.

"I had to find out that my wife and daughter had been killed again."

Tim turned away again. That didn't sound completely unfamiliar. There was something in his mind that indicated the memories were there, waiting in the wings...but he wasn't sure about that.

"I didn't want to remember that. It took something more important to get me to remember, and even then, it took some time for all the memories to come back. I wasn't sure I wanted them. I ran away from my life."

"I didn't run away!" Tim said angrily. "I had no choice! You left me and they took me!"

"That's not what I said, Tim."

Tim stared at the canal. It looked almost black as it got darker.

"It was hard to remember," Gibbs said. "Really hard."

"But you still did, and I should, too. Right?"

"Don't you want to?"

"Why would I want to remember the people who left me?"

"We didn't leave you. Why do you think we left you?"

Tim felt the anger rise up again. He pulled off his shirt. He didn't know how much Gibbs would see since it was pretty dark, but he didn't care.

"Can you see this at all? Can you see all the scars on my body? I'm scared of getting into a shower because of what they did to me! And you want to ask why I don't think I was left? If I wasn't, I wouldn't have suffered like that! They wouldn't have done that to me! I wouldn't have so much panic churning in my gut every day that I'm ready to implode!"

"I can see it," Gibbs said quietly. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not physically," Tim said, softly. "Every night, I have at least one moment when...when what I can't remember scares me so much that I want to scream. Sometimes, I do...sometimes, I don't, but I always want to."

"Tim, I'm sorry about what happened to you. I wish we could have stopped it, but we didn't know where you were, and when we thought we'd found you, we got a video of them torturing you with the message that they'd make it as bad as they could for as long as they could before they killed you. If we backed off and tried to be quiet about it, we thought we'd have a better chance of keeping you alive."

"Being dead would have been better than what little I remember."

"You survived and that's better than being dead."

"Says you," Tim muttered.

"Yeah. Says me."

"I don't know you," Tim said.

"Not at all? No sense that I'm familar?"

For some reason, Tim didn't feel like he could lie to Gibbs.

"You seem familiar; what you told me wasn't shocking. ...but I don't know if I can trust you."

"Why not?"

"Because you left me."

"You keep saying that. What do you mean?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Tim asked.

"No. It's not. Think about it. Why do you think we left you?"

"I don't want to think about it."

"I know. Do it anyway."

"Why should I?"

"Because the Tim McGee I know would want the truth, not just what was easier to believe."

Tim looked over at Gibbs, but Gibbs had started looking out at the inky water in the canal himself.

Tim took a breath and tried to think about what had happened, about that certainty he felt that he had been _left_. There was something, but he didn't know what it was.

"When did you see me last?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Because I don't remember, because I need somewhere to start."

"We had Saturday off. That gave us the full weekend unless something big came up. We know you left the building late Friday."

Tim tried to bring something to mind. He was genuinely trying.

" _Come on, Tony! If you help me with this report, I'll be able to leave that much faster!"_

The voice was his own.

"Tony? Is there a...a Tony?"

"Yeah."

"I asked him for help."

"With a report."

"Yeah."

"He said so. Said that he wouldn't. He felt guilty about that when you didn't show up for work on Monday."

" _I don't care how long it takes you, McGee. Finish it."_

It was like there were bits and pieces. He couldn't see faces, but he could hear words. Not everything was clear, like a garbled telephone signal.

"You made me stay."

"I did."

"No one was there. You left me."

"What happened?"

Gibbs' voice was soft, cajoling. Tim barely heard him. He was trying to remember.

"It was late."

"And?"

Tim started to shake. He could feel them, coming close, too close, and wondering where everyone was. Was it really that late? Why hadn't he just asked for a ride home? He could still feel it.

 _He screamed as they grabbed his hand and twisted it around behind his back. They had been ready for that. The bones snapped audibly, but they had a cloth over his mouth and nose, muffling his scream and then, when he inhaled, the rank fumes filled his brain._

"Tim, snap out of it. It's all right."

The voice penetrated the horror and he opened his eyes. It was full dark. Gibbs was only a shape in the darkness.

"Y-You...l-l-left me," he whispered. "Y-You left...me...alone...and..." He couldn't finish speaking. He was shaking too much.

Then, he realized that there was a hand on his arm, and another on his shoulder. He was facing Gibbs directly.

"We didn't leave you, Tim. You were working late."

"You didn't...s-s-save me," Tim said.

"I know. I wish we could have. I really do."

Tim was still shaking and the anger was being subsumed beneath the other feeling he still couldn't identify.

"I'm sorry, Tim."

Tim tried to pull back, to get away from the concern. There was something in his head, something that he couldn't quite interpret. Images, moments...like photographs. Gibbs. Looking at him. Concern in his eyes.

" _Hey. Stop."_

" _What?"_

There was pain in that image. That same support. Did he want it? From someone who had abandoned him?

 _But did he?_

Dust was in the air in that image. Dust. Heat. Confusion. What was he remembering?

Regardless, he was starting to calm down. Gibbs wasn't letting him pull away. He was keeping him still, but the restraint wasn't making Tim afraid...which surprised him.

"You told me to stop."

"What?"

"You told me to stop. I was...I was too hot. Dust...and...blood..."

"Oh."

"You know what that is?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. There was a bomb outside NCIS a couple of years ago. You were inside, caught a shard of glass. You were fine."

"You were there."

"Yeah, I was. You remember."

"Almost."

There was a bit of silence.

"You don't want to leave here, do you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because...for me...nothing exists except for this farm. I tried to leave once. I got as far as the gate. I couldn't go farther. There's nothing else out there for me."

"Yes, there is. Whether you remember it or not, there is more."

"But I don't know what it is."

"That's why you go and see."

"You just want me to remember because you want to know what they wanted."

"Not just, but yeah. Tim, whether or not you want your life back, there's a case beyond all that. The people who took you had a plan. They wanted something from you. We don't know what it was. All we know is that it's bigger than just you. So, yes, we need to know what's in your head about them, what they asked you, what they wanted."

"We?" Tim asked.

"NCIS, the FBI...the federal agencies."

Tim scoffed a little. That was what he'd expected. It was what was in his head that mattered.

"But what's more important is that we want you back, Tim. You have friends and family who have missed you and worried about you, and wanted nothing more than to find you. You can't remember us. I can accept that. You don't want to try to reconcile what little you do know with what you don't. I understand how hard it is when all you have are pieces that you don't think you want...but there's more than those pieces. I promise that, once you get past this stuff, there's something better."

Tim pulled back and turned away from the shape of Gibbs. For a long moment, he said nothing, but there was something more stirring in his head. It seemed like, the more he was around Gibbs, the more pieces he was getting.

"You don't talk like this," he said softly. "This isn't what you're like."

Gibbs chuckled.

"You're right. I'm not. I can make exceptions when necessary."

"And it's necessary now?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you giving up everything because you're afraid that there's nothing worth having. There's a _lot_ worth having in your life."

"Why can't I remember anything good? Why is it all bad?"

"Because that's the most recent."

"What if I don't agree with you?"

"You'd stay here and be a farmer?"

Tim heard a bit of dismissal in Gibbs' tone. That made him angry.

"There's nothing wrong with that!" he said. "These are good people and they took care of me when I couldn't do that myself! Don't put them down!"

He started to get up, but Gibbs stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"That's not what I said, Tim."

Tim stayed where he was.

"I know," he admitted. "I'm afraid to listen to you."

"Why?"

"Because I'm starting to remember things. I don't want to remember."

"Why not?"

"This place makes sense. Away from here...you're telling me that there's a lot of...complication. Family...friends...investigations. A life I don't even know anymore." Then, a thought hit him. "I'm not married, am I?"

"No."

"No girlfriend?"

"No. Why?"

"No reason."

"Right."

He sounded unconvinced, but he didn't pursue it.

"Tim, I'm going to ask you to do me a favor. I don't normally ask, but I'm going to ask. Please, come back to DC and at least see what it is you could be giving up. If you don't want it after you see it, then, I won't stand in your way, but don't give it up without knowing first."

That churning feeling came back when he thought about leaving the farm. He couldn't face it right now. Instead of answering, he got to his feet and stumbled down the bank to the road. He was startled when he saw someone standing there.

"Just me, Tim."

"Stephen...I need to go back."

"You all right?"

"No. I need to go back to the house."

"What did he say?"

"It's not about him. It's...please, I just need to go back and...and feel safe."

"All right. Let's go."

Tim looked back and saw Gibbs coming down the bank and he hurried away from the person he almost knew but didn't quite remember. Stephen didn't say anything to him. He just walked beside him, kept his pace down to a manageable speed.

When they got back to the yard, Tim saw the other people he was supposed to know and he ran into the house, into his bedroom, and closed and locked the door. Then, he sat down on the bed and started shaking.

Go back? Go back where? None of that existed for him. Those little bits he had remembered hadn't told him about where he'd actually be going.

It was like being told to walk into oblivion and hope that there was something solid to stand on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What happened, Boss?" Tony asked. "What did he say?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"We'll come back tomorrow morning... if that's all right, Mr. Hoopes."

"Sure. Fine by me, but I'm not forcing Tim to talk to you if he doesn't want to."

Gibbs smiled a bit.

"Wouldn't expect you to."

"Good. Then, you're welcome back tomorrow."

"All right."

Gibbs gestured to Tony and they headed back to Hank's car.

"We've got the bodies cleared out and the other two transported to holding," Hank said. "When will you guys take over?"

"As soon as I can get a team out here," Fornell said.

"FBI is not taking this over, Tobias," Gibbs said. "It's our case, and we don't know how the FBI fits in yet."

"Fine, but I have people much closer than you do. NCIS doesn't tend to function inland."

"We're pretty good at adapting."

"Good. You willing to keep fighting me for something you know you'll agree to anyway?"

"You feds always like this?" Hank asked.

"We try to be," Fornell said with a grin.

Hank sighed. "I'm not even going to try and understand. You'll need someplace to stay tonight?"

"Yeah," Gibbs said.

"Okay. I'll take you to a hotel in town. You can tell me what more you need me to do."

"Actually, I can tell you something else we'll need before we leave."

"What's that?"

"We need to find the way to these coordinates," Tony said and showed him where they'd traced the call to.

"Okay. We can do that, too. Looks like it's probably out in the forest."

"Figures."

"You don't want to go there tonight, do you?"

"No, not tonight," Gibbs said. "But tomorrow."

"All right. That's fine with me. I'll make sure we get out there."

"Thanks."

Hank gave them a ride to a local hotel and they checked into a few rooms. Gibbs sat down on his bed and counted down from ten.

He got to five before there was a knock.

It was Tony.

"Come in."

"Is he going to come back with us?" Tony asked.

"I hope so."

"You don't know?"

"He doesn't remember any of it. He had a few things that came back to him while we were talking, but it's the unknown for him. I don't think he believes that we didn't abandon him."

"But–"

"Give him a chance, Tony," Gibbs said. "Did you ever find Ziva?"

"No. She's never responded to the messages I sent, and since it's about McGee, she would have if she got them."

"There's still a chance. We'll go back to the farm tomorrow."

"You sure they want us back? They didn't seem very friendly."

"I think they're leery of strangers, no matter who they are, but that Stephen Hoopes wouldn't have let us back if he didn't think it was a good idea."

"I never even imagined that this might be what happened. I didn't think he'd...have amnesia."

"Give him a chance, Tony," Gibbs repeated. "I made a start. Even if he doesn't come back with us, he won't pass up the chance to know who he is."

"What if he does?"

"He won't. Go to sleep."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly knocked on the door to Tim's room. No sound from the room. It was late, but she was worried about him.

"Tim? It's Kelly. Are you all right?"

"Anything?" Marilyn asked from behind.

"Not yet."

"Maybe he just needs some time alone."

"I don't know, Mom. He was really upset. I don't think he should be alone when he's upset."

Kelly knocked again.

"Tim? Please? Open the door."

Then, finally, she heard movement. The lock clicked and the door opened. Tim was pale and his expression was troubled. Kelly hugged him tightly.

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know. I don't know, Kelly. I..."

"You look tired, Tim," Marilyn said. "You should probably get some sleep. ...unless you're hungry?" She smiled.

Tim smiled back. "Not hungry now...but I don't want to sleep. I'm going to have nightmares. I know it, and I just don't want to deal with them tonight. I'd rather stay awake."

"You need to sleep, Tim," Kelly said.

"No. Thanks, though."

Kelly looked at her mother and then led Tim to the living room couch. She gently pushed him down and sat beside him.

"Just relax, then. You don't have to sleep. I'll sit here and I won't ask you any questions. Just relax."

Tim leaned his head back. He looked over at her.

"I'm not married. I asked Gibbs."

Kelly smiled.

"Good. Now, relax. Close your eyes."

Tim did as she asked and they sat together until they both fell asleep. It was late, but it still took Tim a good hour to relax enough to sleep.

But they slept on the couch, taking comfort in each other.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Tony woke up early that morning. After finding out that Tim was alive, that he'd been free for weeks...and that he blamed them for what had happened...it was hard to sleep well. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what would happen next.

Gibbs didn't seem worried about whether or not Tim would come back with them, but Tony wasn't so sure. Tim hadn't wanted to see them. He couldn't remember them, and it was clear that these people here had taken good care of him. Why would he leave that for some nebulous better life?

But what had caused the amnesia in the first place? Tony didn't know, but he didn't want to face Tim with no memories...and resentment.

Gibbs _had_ said that Tim had started remembering some things. Maybe that trend would continue. Tony really hoped so. As often as they had bickered and picked at each other, he still considered Tim a friend and he didn't want to lose him.

Again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Stephen walked by the living room and saw Tim and Kelly leaning on each other while they slept. Well, better that than staying up all night worrying. He heard a truck drive in to the yard and hurried out before whoever it was could wake up the two.

Paul had just slammed his pickup door and was heading for the house when Stephen got out. He looked upset.

"Hank told me about what happened last night, Dad. Why didn't _you_?" he asked. "I should not have had to hear about my family being shot at, by the deputy. ...and if you were ready for them..."

"We weren't ready. I thought something would happen, but not so fast."

"Why didn't you call me, Dad? Why didn't you let me be part of it?" Paul asked.

"Because you have a family," Stephen said. "That's your first priority. We're second. I wouldn't have had Kelly and Jeff here if I had known, but I wouldn't have called you, even if I had. If something had happened to you, Suzette would never have forgiven me."

Paul sighed and looked away for a moment.

"You're still my family," he said quietly. "I don't want to lose you."

Stephen could see how upset Paul was. They weren't particularly effusive as a general rule. To be that explicit indicated how badly he'd been scared.

"You didn't," he said.

"Yeah," Paul said and took a deep breath, calming himself down. "As if you'd let anything happen. Hank told me about the NCIS people, that Tim is one of them."

"Yeah. Met them last night. They'd tracked the bad guys here. They didn't know where Tim was."

"Well, they're going out to someplace north of here."

"North of _here_?"

"Yeah, they got some coordinates or something, Hank was saying. They wanted to go out and see what they could see. Guess they still have more to do besides find Tim."

"Guess so. Makes sense that it'd be north of here."

"That's the way the canal flows," Tim said softly behind them.

Stephen turned around. "Thought you were still asleep."

"I heard the truck door."

"Sorry about that," Paul said. "I was mad at my dad."

"Heard that," Tim said with a bit of a smile. "Kelly's still asleep."

"And everyone is okay, right?" Paul asked.

"Yeah," Stephen said. "We got a bit of upheaval, but everyone's all right."

"Good. You leaving us, then, Tim? Now that your friends have found you?"

Stephen wasn't surprised when Tim shrugged noncommittally. He clearly hadn't figured out his own mind yet. Instead, he looked at Stephen.

"Do you know where Paul meant?"

"More or less. There are some cabins up that way. I don't know exactly where they're going. Do you, Paul?"

Paul shook his head. "Hank didn't tell me the coordinates, just that it was somewhere north of here. Why?"

"Could you take me up there?" Tim asked Stephen.

"You sure you want to do that?" Paul asked. "They're going to be going up there this morning. Should you be there, too?"

"I don't know," Tim said. "I don't know if I should and I don't know if I want to. But will you take me anyway, Stephen?"

Stephen looked at Tim. This was the first time that Tim had expressed any willingness to leave the farm. That should probably be encouraged...but to go to the place that might be where he had been tortured? Was that the best idea? Maybe, maybe not, but Stephen decided to go along with Tim. Maybe this was something he needed.

"All right. Let's go. Paul, can you keep things going? The hands are already out. The tractor needs an oil change. I changed the filters, but if you want to get your hands dirty..."

"Thanks," Paul said drily. "I didn't want to bring my kids up today. Tomorrow, they'll be back, much to their regret."

"You ready to go, Tim? Have you eaten?"

"Not yet. I think I don't want to eat yet," Tim said. "I'd like to go first."

"Your choice. Let's go."

They got in the truck and left Paul heading for the tractor. Stephen drove on the dirt road to the north gate of the farm.

"You sure you want to go?" Stephen asked at the gate.

"No," Tim said and closed his eyes. "But no matter what...I can't just stay here forever."

"Well, you could, but that has people labeling you as a kook."

"Like you?" Tim asked.

"Nope. I don't like to leave, but I can anytime I want or need to. I'm friendly and I give respect where respect is due. I'll help anyone who needs it. People think I'm a bit strange, but perfectly sane."

Tim laughed a little. Stephen opened the gate and drove through. Then, he stopped and closed the gate behind him. Although the cattle were pastured away from the road, there was no sense in borrowing trouble.

Then, he started driving to the mountains north of the farm. He chose the road that was close to the river since Tim would have had to be in the river at some point...or else close to where the canal veered away from the river. As they drove, Tim said nothing, but his eyes were open again as they left the one place he knew.

After about half an hour, he suddenly grabbed Stephen's arm.

"Stop here."

They were in the middle of the forest. Trees on one side. Trees on the other.

"What is it?" Stephen asked.

Tim didn't answer. He just got out of the truck and started walking down the road. The river was a ways off to his right, but he didn't seem interested in the river. He turned to the left and stared off into the forest. Then, without warning, he started to walk that way. Stephen turned the key and jumped out of the truck.

"Tim, where are you going?" he asked.

"It's this way," he said softly, distantly. "This way."

Stephen followed Tim, but he wasn't sure there was anything out this way to see. There were cabins up here somewhere, but still...

Tim tripped and fell to his knees, but he was up again before Stephen could get to him.

"Tim!" he called.

Tim didn't seem to hear him. He was almost running now. If Stephen had no idea where they were headed, Tim didn't have that problem.

"Back this way. I broke the window," Tim said and kept moving.

If they were trying to be stealthy, Tim was failing miserably. He pushed at branches until they snapped, stepped on sticks, walked through the bushes and undergrowth. He wasn't paying attention to any of it. He was just moving.

Then, through the trees, Stephen caught sight of a cabin...and there was movement inside it and around it. He hoped that it was the NCIS people because Tim was on a roll now. Stephen wasn't sure he could catch up in time to stop him.

"Tim! Slow down!" he called, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

Tim stumbled into the clearing around the cabin just as Gibbs and Tony and a woman Stephen didn't know came around the house with their guns drawn.

"McGee!" Tony said in surprise, lowering his gun immediately. "What are you doing here? How did you _get_ here?"

Stephen came into the clearing behind Tim. The guns went up for a second but they were down again when they realized who he was.

Tim didn't answer Tony. He pushed by him and went for a window...a broken window. There was a piece of plywood up over the opening.

"It's in here," he said. "This is where it is."

"Where _what_ is?" Tony asked.

"McGee, you don't want to go in that room," the woman said. "It's pretty nasty."

"That's where he was," Stephen said. "He knows what it's like in there."

"...oh..."

She looked helplessly at Tony who was looking at Tim. Stephen could see they didn't know how to deal with this. He didn't either, but he'd seen enough of Tim's strange flashbacks to know that he'd come out of them, but that they'd been disturbing to him.

But it was Gibbs who approached Tim as he tried to tear down the plywood.

"Tim."

"That's it. It's in there," he said.

"Then, come in the door."

"They'll see me."

"No, they won't."

"Boss..." Tony said.

Gibbs said nothing to Tony's weak protest. He just led Tim to the door.

They went into the small cabin. Stephen followed along, whether he was welcome or not. He didn't know why Tim seemed to have a tendency to seek out the places that caused him pain, but it had been something they'd seen in him throughout his time on the farm. Consciously or not, Tim was reaching out for the memories he'd lost.

Right now, he seemed disconnected, but not in the same way. It was almost like he had decided that this was what he needed to do and he couldn't let anything in that might change his mind. If it was the horrors of this cabin that had blocked him, maybe he needed to confront them in order to get past them.

Tim surged ahead of Gibbs as soon as they were inside. He ran, unerringly, to the back room, where the plywood had blocked the view. He stumbled over the threshold.

...and stopped.

The room reeked. They had clearly never bothered to clean it once Tim had escaped. Mouse droppings littered the floor. The air was stale and smelled of too many unpleasant odors to count. There was a chair in one corner of the small room. The chair had grooves on the legs and back...perhaps from a rope. The other side of the room was taken up with a wooden bedframe and a box spring. No mattress. Just the box spring. It was particularly foul with dark stains all over it. Some were undoubtably blood.

And beside the box spring was a strange contraption.

Strange and horrific.

A simple box with two wires coming out of it. The box plugged into the outlet in the wall. At the end of the wires were small metal prongs.

A parrilla.

Tim said nothing as he walked over to it. He knelt down on the floor and reached out for the wires. Gibbs had stayed right behind him and now, as Tim reached to touch the instrument that had caused him so much pain, Gibbs intervened.

"No, Tim."

"It didn't stop," Tim whispered. "It would never stop. It just kept going...and going...and going. I can... I can't see it all. I can...feel it. Feel them so close...whispering something in my ear...just before the pain. Just before it all started again. Something..."

"Tim. You don't have to go there."

Tim reached out for the wires again. He got a hold of one and stared at it.

Stephen stood where he was, just inside the room, watching. He hadn't decided what the best action to take was, but as long as he didn't _disagree_ with Gibbs' approach, he'd hold himself back.

Tim's breathing was loud and irregular.

"It never stopped," he said again, softly. Then, he shouted, "They never stopped! Never stopped talking! Never stopped hurting me! They never stopped!" His voice cracked and he clenched the prong tightly in his hand. "But it didn't kill me. It didn't kill me. I didn't...die. That's all I wanted. I begged for it. I begged them to kill me. I didn't ask for freedom. Just death. Just death...but it didn't matter."

Gibbs turned Tim toward him.

"What were they asking you, Tim?" he asked.

"Boss...don't..." Tony said, weakly. "Not now."

"Quiet," Gibbs said, never taking his eyes away from Tim. "What were they asking you?"

"Can't hear them. I'm screaming too loud. I don't want to hear," Tim said. "I don't want to hear because I'll answer if I know!"

Stephen couldn't help wincing at the image he was getting from what Tim was saying.

"But I can hear them. They won't go away."

For the first time, Tim looked directly at Gibbs, his eyes haunted.

"I have to forget! I can't answer if I don't know! I have to forget everything!"

"What do you have to forget?" Gibbs asked.

But Tim was lost in the memory, lost in the haze of pain and fear. Stephen decided it was time to interfere. He walked over and knelt down beside him.

"Tim, it's okay. Come out of it."

After a few minutes, Tim was looking around and saw where he was and who was with him.

"I'm here," he said.

"Yeah," Stephen said. "You remember?"

Tim shook his head.

"Just the pain," he said softly. "That's all there is."

He looked around the room.

"Do I know all of you?"

"Yeah, you do," Gibbs said. "Tony and Ellie."

"Ellie?" Tim asked. He looked at her and his brow furrowed. "That...doesn't seem right."

"I'm new," Ellie said and managed to smile a little bit, although she clearly wasn't sure how to react.

"It was Ziva before," Gibbs said. "And Kate before her."

Tim nodded vaguely, but he wasn't really hearing him at the moment. He was still half in the memory. The problem was that he was getting memories back, but they weren't complete.

"I was so close," he said softly. "I almost...almost remembered. I..." He sighed. "I just wanted to...get it out...but I can't. I can't remember."

"You will," Stephen said. "When you're ready."

Tim sighed again. Then, he looked around the room.

"I need some air."

Gibbs took over.

"Ellie, take him outside," he said.

"Sure. Tim?"

Tim looked at her and nodded. He got to his feet and walked to the door of the room. Then, he looked back at Gibbs.

"I tried to remember. I can't."

Gibbs got to his feet, too.

"It's all right, Tim."

"Yeah, maybe."

Then, he walked out. As soon as they heard the door close, Gibbs rounded on Stephen.

"Why did you bring him here?"

"He asked me to," Stephen said simply. "I wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not, but it was his choice. I came along to watch out for him. Neither of us knew where the cabin was...until he asked me to stop by the side of the road. He was almost remembering. That's how a lot of his memories have been. They're _almost_ there, but not quite. Do you have people who deal with this kind of thing?" He gestured at the room and all that it implied about Tim's treatment.

"Yeah."

"Good, because I think Tim needs that. He doesn't just remember. He feels it again, and that's not right. I don't know what you do about it, but he needs _something_. When he goes back..."

"You think he will?" Tony asked, almost plaintively.

Stephen laughed. "Yeah. I don't think he can stand staying here when he knows that he could find out who and what he is by going back. Oh, he's not sure about it, but he knows in his mind that he has to go. If you give him time and don't push too hard, he'll say it himself."

"And how do you know that?"

"I know that because I watch people. I've had lots of time to watch Tim, and whatever else he is, he's not the guy who takes the easy way out. He also doesn't like being ignorant. I saw that when he worked on the farm. Didn't know anything about anything, but still he tried his best to figure it out. He wants to know who he is. You apparently know. He'll come with you...if you give him the time to realize that he wants to."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Tim looked at Ellie.

"Do I know you?"

"A little, not much. I'd only worked a couple of cases with you guys before..." she cleared her throat. "...before you disappeared."

"Right." Tim looked around at the trees and then back at the cabin. "I thought I'd remember...when I came here."

"You remembered _something_ ," Ellie said. "It's a start."

"Yeah, I guess." Tim looked back at the cabin again. "What are they like?"

"Who?"

"Gibbs and...and Tony."

"They're...different," Ellie said. "I'm still not used to them, but they've welcomed me. They teach me a lot, don't let me get away with things...but they're also accepting my idiosyncrasies."

"Like?"

Ellie grinned. "Like thinking best with my stuff spread out on the floor. They don't let me _do_ that all the time, but when I can, they don't even blink."

Tim nodded. "What about me?"

"You thought I was strange, but most people do at first."

"Oh."

"Doesn't ring any bells?" she asked.

"No. I'm sorry. Tony and Gibbs...they're kind of familiar...like I have met them before, but you...there's nothing."

"Well, there wasn't much to lose. I don't feel bad."

"Okay."

"What about...they mentioned Ziva?"

Ellie shook her head. "I don't know her. She was gone long before I came."

"Oh."

Tim took a breath and let it out in a whoosh. There was so much here...but it seemed out of reach.

" _Get him inside!"_

" _There's no one around. That's why we picked this place."_

" _Don't tempt fate. Get him inside right now."_

 _He didn't fight. They'd already beat that out of him. When they weren't hurting him, he was docile. They dragged him out of the trunk of the car and into the cabin._

" _We have all the time in the world now. You have nothing else. Until you give us what we want, your life is going to be pain...and you won't get used to it. We can always make it worse."_

 _He grabbed his hand and twisted it just enough for the newly-healed bones to hurt._

" _Remember?"_

"Tim! Tim, can you hear me?"

There were hands on his arms. Hands...

He blinked a few times and took in the view around him. He hadn't moved, but he wasn't sure how much time had passed. He'd remembered something else. Why could he only get these little pieces? Why not everything?

"Tim, can you hear me?"

"I hear you," he said. "Why can't I remember more?"

Then, he realized that it wasn't Stephen. It was Gibbs. He stepped back.

"You'll remember."

"Why not now?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'm not an expert."

Tim sighed and looked for Stephen, the person he knew.

"Can I go back to the farm now?"

Stephen chuckled. "It was your idea to come out here in the first place. I just tagged along."

Tim managed a smile.

"Oh...we left the truck, didn't we?"

"Yeah. It'll be a walk, but..."

"I can take you two over," Hank said. "I'm not really doing anything here. Just being a representative and that's boring."

"Thanks, Hank," Stephen said. "Let's go."

Tim nodded and didn't look at Tony and Gibbs as he walked away, although he could feel them staring at him, wanting him to say something, to do something.

The problem was that Tim didn't know what they expected of him, what would have been a normal reaction. So he just walked away.

Hank drove them to the truck and they headed back to the farm.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

"All right. You up for milking, then?"

Tim smiled. How simple farm life was. How incomprehensible at times, but how simple.

"Yeah. I am."

"Good. Then, Kelly won't have to do it all on her own."

Tim swallowed. He had caught the side glance Stephen had given him.

"I'm not married," he said softly. "I asked Gibbs."

Stephen chuckled.

"Good."

That was all.

They went back to the farm and Tim let himself get lost in the simplicity (and complexity) of milking the cows.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He still doesn't remember us," Tony said after Hank drove Tim and Stephen away.

"He thought he'd remember, too," Ellie said. "He told me. ...and he said that you guys do seem familiar...but he has no memory of me at all."

"Well, if he'd remembered you and not us, I'd be upset."

"You mean you're not right now?"

Tony grunted without answering.

"Mr. Hoopes said he'd come back with us."

"Yeah."

"What he said is the way Tim is," Gibbs said. "He won't want to stay here forever. He'll want to know."

"But will _McGee_ realize that before we have to leave?"

"Ducky's getting here today," Gibbs said. "We can't leave until he's done his part."

"Yeah, I guess. I still want him to remember more than being tortured."

"So does he," Gibbs said. "Give him time."

"And we _do_ have things we can do here, right?" Ellie asked.

Gibbs smiled.

"Yeah, Bishop, we do."

"We don't have to work really fast," she suggested.

Tony laughed.

"I'd rather not spend all my time here. I'm not really a camping guy."

"Yeah, I can see that about you," Ellie said.

Then, Tony sobered as they looked back at the cabin where Tim had been tortured. Any doubts they might have had about what Tim had experienced were long since dashed by Tim's sudden appearance and his reaction to that room. Just seeing the room had been bad enough. The odors, the obvious remnants of restraints and the methods used... Tim coming there had only augmented the disgust.

The sooner they were done here, the better.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim spent the whole day mostly alone. Kelly had helped him with the milking but they hadn't talked much. Then, she had been needed out with the cattle. Marilyn had put Tim to work weeding in the garden and he had taken to it with gusto because it let him _not_ think about other things.

He was back to eating as much as he could at meals, but his mind was pre-occupied by everything going on and he said little beyond thanking Marilyn for the food. After dinner, he excused himself and withdrew from company.

"What happened out at the cabin, Dad?" Kelly asked.

Stephen was focused on the insurance form Marilyn had forced him to fill out. Yes, she could have done it herself. She was the one who managed all the family finances, but at times like this, she became determined to get him to do something that made him rely on another person...and he generally did what she told him. Reluctantly.

"He found the place where they tortured him, but he still doesn't remember everything. He's not sure what to do," Stephen said.

"But shouldn't he just go home?" Jeff asked. "I mean, if that's where he's from, where he belongs...what's the problem?"

Kelly took a breath to begin berating him. She'd never fully forgiven her brother for his callousness when he'd first come home. Stephen, however, stopped her before she could get started. He didn't look up from the form, but his voice brooked no argument.

"The problem, Jeff, is that he doesn't know anything about that place and it scares him. The outside world hasn't been exactly nice to him recently. It's easy to assume that a person should be logical about stuff like that, but when you're actually in that position, it's a lot harder to deal with. The fact that he's considering it at all says more about him than you think. He's braver than I am."

Jeff looked at his dad and then at Marilyn who just smiled and shook her head. Whatever Stephen meant, the explanation wasn't going to come from her. As for Stephen, he grimaced.

"Lyn, I don't get what's supposed to go here. These forms are needlessly complicated. It'd be easier just to buy the new windows and patch up everything else ourselves. It's not like we can't afford it."

"We have insurance so that, if something bad happens, we can get help paying to replace it. We're not going to waste that money we pay on premiums just to buy it all ourselves, Stephen."

"Yes, dear."

Marilyn smiled and sat down by him so that they could both look at the form.

Kelly got up and left the kitchen. Tim was in the living room, but he stood up when she came in.

"Will you walk with me?" he asked.

"Sure."

They went outside and walked to the canal, of course. For a while, Tim didn't say anything, but Kelly could see his turmoil.

"Everyone wants me to go," he said finally.

"And you?"

"And me, what?"

"Have you decided to go?" she asked.

"No...yes..." Tim shook his head. "It depends on the second."

"What's it going to take for the decision to last longer?" Kelly asked with a smile.

Tim took a breath and looked at her.

"Would you come with me?"

"What?"

"Would you come with me? To DC?"

"Oh...uh...Tim, I just don't...know. Why?"

Tim laughed a little. "Because I know you...and I don't know them, even though I should. I'm afraid of leaving here because it's all I know, but if I had someone I knew with me...I'd feel better about it."

Kelly thought about it and then realized where her hesitancy was coming from. It wasn't Tim.

"Tim...you're not the only one afraid of leaving here."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm afraid," Kelly said. "I'm afraid of confronting the outside world again. It didn't go so well for me the last time. And it went bad...really publicly. I just...I'm afraid of what will happen when I go back out there."

Tim nodded and she could see his disappointment, but also that he wouldn't press her.

"I think Dad and I are birds of a feather when it comes to things like this. He had problems when he was younger, around the time he and Mom met. He's never told us exactly what happened, but Mom told me it drove him back to the family farm and I don't think he's left this area in the forty years he and Mom have been married. I guess she doesn't mind, but we never went on family trips any farther away than Yellowstone. The only time he came close was after my ex...became my ex. And Mom wouldn't let him."

Tim nodded again, but Kelly took a breath and smiled at him.

"But I'm not Dad, and if I choose to stay here, I want it to be because it's where I want to be...not because I don't feel like I can leave."

Tim looked at her...and still said nothing.

"If you really want me along...and if there's room for me, I'll come with you, Tim." She took a deep breath and let out loudly. "And if you don't think that was hard for me to say, then, I'll take it all back."

Tim smiled. "If you don't think that deciding to leave is hard for me, too... I don't know what to say as the _or else_ part. I feel like I'm making the decision to step off a precipice in the dark and just waiting to see how far I fall."

"That's what you're doing. The nice thing is that there are people waiting in the dark and they won't let you fall too far."

"Why are _you_ so sure about that?"

"I'm not...but Dad is. I don't know why _he_ is so sure, but he is, and I've learned to trust his intuition in things like this. He thinks those people who say they know you are honest people and want what's best."

"So...if I leave... _when_ I leave and you come with me, what then?"

Kelly held out her hand. Tim took it and then, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"Then...we see if there _is_ a then at all. I've learned that there are ways of tearing yourself down just trying to fit in, and I'm not going to force it anymore. I know I fit here...and I don't think you do, really. Oh, you could be happy here, but I think that...when you know who you are, when you remember all this that you've lost, you'll want to be back in your life. Who wouldn't?"

Tim reached out and cupped his hand over her cheek.

"You?"

Kelly smiled.

"No. I accept the things that happened. It was probably necessary for me to learn those lessons. I hate those experiences, but they did bring me back home, and that's something I appreciate. You have that chance, Tim. You have the chance to go home. Don't give that up, even if part of me wants you to stay here."

"Part of me wants to stay, too...a big part, actually."

"But you need to go...and I'll come with you."

"Thanks."

Decision made, they walked back to the house together. Tim decided to wait until the next morning to tell the NCIS people that he wanted to go back with them, but he told Marilyn and Stephen. They supported his decision but reiterated that he was always welcome back to the farm, no matter what.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The next morning, Tim heard the NCIS people come. He'd been hiding in the barn, but they were there, and he knew he needed to tell them what he'd decided. How could he still not remember them when they'd known each other for so long?

He took a breath and squared his shoulders. They'd seen him as a complete and total wimp. The least he could do was present himself a little better.

Another deep breath and he walked out of the barn to where he saw them standing, talking with Hank. There was another man with them now. He was older, and Tim wondered if he was supposed to know this man, too.

That was almost enough to have him withdraw again, but he was determined to see this decision through.

The man saw him first and walked toward him eagerly.

 _I should know him, then,_ Tim thought with regret. He didn't want to see the disappointment on this man's face when he realized that Tim had no clue who he was.

"I don't know who you are," he said, before the man could speak.

"Of course. Jethro told me. I'm Dr. Mallard, although you and most others call me Ducky. Is that at all familiar to you?"

The matter-of-fact manner with which this Ducky acknowledged Tim's lack of memory was almost comforting. ...and his British accent didn't surprise Tim at all, although he supposed he shouldn't have expected it. Since he had...maybe that meant he was remembering something?

"Not your name...but something."

"I'll take it."

"So...I do know you," Tim said.

"Yes, you do. Quite well after ten years."

"You're a doctor?"

"A medical examiner, actually."

"Oh. So...do you know why I don't remember anything?"

"Since it appears that your memories _are_ returning, however patchy, I would say that their loss is likely due to psychological trauma."

"Like torture?" Tim asked.

"Yes...and all the attendant horror that goes along with it. I'm sorry that you suffered so much, Timothy."

"Me, too...even though I don't remember it all. It's...it's _almost_ there."

"But not quite?"

Tim nodded, wondering why it was that Ducky didn't make him feel as uncertain as Tony and Gibbs did. What was it that made the difference?

Speaking of...Tim felt his tension increase as Tony and Gibbs walked over. Ellie had stayed back with another older man, although she waved at him.

"How are you feeling today, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

"I..." Tim stopped, his confidence leaving him. He took another deep breath. "I'd... I want to come...with you when you go...to DC."

"Really?" Tony asked, and Tim was surprised at the hope in his voice.

"...but there needs to...to be room for Kelly to come with me."

Some disappointment in Tony's expression which also surprised Tim.

"I think we can arrange that," Gibbs said. No sign of anything in his expression.

"You don't mind if she comes?"

"No."

"Okay. When will...you be leaving?"

"Probably tomorrow. The guys we caught haven't said anything. The arrests in DC haven't resulted in any information yet. FBI is sending in a team to wrap things up here. We'll stop by to pick you up tomorrow morning."

"Okay."

Now that the decision was made, Tim wasn't feeling very confident. He was afraid of leaving. He was afraid both that he _would_ remember and that he _wouldn't_. He started to walk away, but then, he stopped and turned around.

"What if I still don't remember?" he asked.

The others had started to walk away as well, but they all turned back. Tim didn't know which one of them he was asking. It was just the most important question as far as he was concerned.

"What if you say something is mine and I don't remember it? What if I don't recognize the people I should know? What if my memory doesn't come back at all?"

"You may not remember everything at once, Timothy, but given time, I believe you'll regain your memories," Ducky said.

Tim didn't feel any better, but he nodded and then walked away, back to the only life he knew. It was only everyone's insistence that it would be better for him to go back that was keeping him from saying no, from trying to remember. All that he'd remembered so far was horror and pain.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He's coming back!" Tony said in surprise. "I didn't think he would."

"He doesn't seem very confident," Ducky said.

"He's not. He's afraid," Gibbs said. "But he's coming."

"Yes, that's important," Ducky said, "but I have to admit that, even with your warning, I was surprised to see no recognition in his eyes. He's understandably nervous, but there's more to it than simple nerves. Do you have any idea what more could there be?"

"At the cabin," Tony said, "McGee said something like...he had to forget...or else he'd tell."

"Tell what?"

"Don't know. He didn't say. He...He just..."

"He couldn't keep remembering," Gibbs said. "It was too much all at once."

"I'm sure. If he was remembering months of torture, I'm not at all surprised. He's likely afraid of finding nothing better. No matter what anyone tells him, he has no context to give him hope, particularly if all he remembers is the pain."

"I don't like that he's taking someone else with him, someone from here."

"It's a crutch," Ducky said. "And when someone is wounded, you shouldn't resent their need for assistance. Even if that need is mental rather than physical."

"I just..." Tony looked toward where Tim had gone. "I don't want him to stay here. I want him to come back to DC. Having someone come with him...that means he might not stay. It'd be like losing him again if we found him only to have him give up on us."

"He still thinks we gave up on him," Gibbs said.

"But we _didn't_!" Tony protested.

"It doesn't matter whether we did or not," Gibbs said. "He doesn't remember, and until he does, I don't think we can tell him."

"Probably not. He'll need to see it for himself," Ducky said.

"Isn't there something we can do to...to get him to see it?"

"I don't know, quite honestly. It's something we'll have to feel our way through, but he's giving us the chance to do it. That's important to acknowledge."

"Let's finish up here," Gibbs said. "There's work to do."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was sitting on the bed in the spare room, staring at the bag he'd packed with the clothes the Hoopes family had given him. It felt like he was preparing to go off into some deep dark abyss. Nevermind that it wasn't really like that. He still felt that way, and it would just be so much easier not to go at all. He wondered if he'd been this weak-willed before he lost his memory. Maybe he was just a wimp at heart. Maybe that was why they'd chosen him.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," he said softly.

The door opened and Marilyn smiled at him.

"Dinner's about ready, Tim."

"Thanks."

He expected her to leave, but instead, she walked over and sat beside him on the bed.

"You're afraid of leaving, aren't you."

Tim didn't see any reason to deny it. He just nodded.

"I don't blame you for being afraid, but you don't have to be. These people seem to really care about you, and if it doesn't work out, you can always come back here. You'll never be lost and alone, Tim. I promise you that."

Tim took a quick breath as his throat tightened.

"What's out there, Marilyn?" he asked in a small voice.

Marilyn patted his hand. "The world, your life, people. You know, when I was young, I wanted to travel the world, see everything there was to see, and I did get some traveling in before I met Stephen. He was as opposite from me as could be; even before, he was a homebody."

"Before what?"

"Before he got that scar from a cattle prod," Marilyn said. "The situation was...far from ideal. After that, he ran away to the farm and he's never left the area since then."

"Don't you feel trapped?"

"No, because I chose to come here. Stephen told me that I shouldn't tie myself down, that he wasn't worth sacrificing my dreams for, but I'd found new dreams and I made the decision to stay with him, knowing what it would require, knowing that it meant no traveling the world unless I did it alone or with friends. It would never be with my husband as I'd dreamed. I never dreamed of being a farmer's wife, but for all that, there are worse things out there than living on a farm. I love the life I have and the people in it. That's what you need to figure out, Tim. You need to find the life you love and you can't make the decision if you're ignorant about what one of your options is."

Tim looked around the room again.

"What happened to Stephen that he hid out here...for forty years?"

Marilyn smiled. "Stephen has never wanted to be anywhere other than home, even when he was young. His parents told me as much after we got engaged. The only reason he went away for college was because they wanted him to be sure that farming was what he really wanted to do with his life. They wanted to make sure he knew his choices. We met at college and one day, Stephen was in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was a protest that got out of control. He was caught in the middle of it and he ended up with that scar on his arm from a cattle prod. After that, he went home. No hesitation, no questioning. He dropped out of college, never finished. He came back here where it was safe. He only waited long enough to tell me that he was leaving and that I would be better off finding someone else who could give me what I wanted. Even then, I could see how afraid he was of staying. There was no chance of convincing him."

"And you said no."

"Of course." Marilyn smiled. "I love him. I followed him here and I stayed. We've had a happy family, and I kept him from becoming completely isolated. I forced him to go with me to town. I made sure our children went to public school and never felt as though they had to stay here to be safe, and he's supported me in that. We've gone to places for short family trips, but he'll never go further."

"It sounds like agoraphobia."

Marilyn smiled. "It does, and I find it interesting that you can remember a word like that but you can't remember your own past."

Tim flushed and smiled back at her.

"Did you ever try to get him help?"

"Yes, but Stephen wouldn't go. I think he always had a little bit of that, and when things went wrong, he overreacted to the trauma. But he was happy here and had no desire to go anywhere else. It's hard to convince someone that they have a problem when they're happy. Kelly knows a little about it, but Paul and Jeff don't. I only told Kelly when she moved back here because I didn't want her following in her father's footsteps that way."

"And you don't want that for me, either?"

"No, I don't. I want you to make your decision without that kind of restriction. Back when Stephen went through that...mental problems weren't as openly acknowledged as they can be now. It might have been easier to get him help now, but after forty years, I've accepted how he is and he knows that my stubbornness has saved him from being a crazy hermit."

"So now what?"

"Now? You have dinner, and tomorrow, you go home, knowing that you still have options."

"Dinner sounds good."

"I figured it would. Come on, Tim."

Marilyn stood up and gestured for Tim to follow. They walked together to the kitchen and Tim ate everything he was served. He hadn't yet found something he disliked. Food was something he felt he'd been without for too long to be picky about it.

After that, he went to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you ready, Tim?" Kelly asked from the door.

"No," Tim said, but he smiled.

"You'd better get ready because they're here."

"Oh." He took a deep breath. "Too late to turn back. Time to go."

"All right. Let's go."

Tim nodded and walked out of the room, out of the house, and into the yard. The NCIS people were there, waiting. Tim saw them, saw Gibbs and Tony who still made him feel a bit angry, Ducky who didn't for some reason, and then Ellie whom he didn't know at all and the FBI man, Fornell. It was only the knowledge that Kelly was coming with him kept him from giving up.

"You ready, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

Tim turned back to Marilyn and Stephen. Jeff and Paul were out working on the farm already. Jeff was probably glad he was going, although he'd been polite since their rocky beginning, and Paul had already wished him luck. He walked to Marilyn and hugged her.

"Thank you for everything," he said quietly.

"Go and get your life back, Tim," she said. "And then, come back to visit, sometime."

"I will," Tim said.

Marilyn let him go and he turned to Stephen.

"Thanks for saving me and giving me a place to live," he said and stuck out his hand.

Stephen shook it firmly.

"No thanks needed. My pleasure."

"Thank you anyway," Tim said.

Then, he turned around to face the NCIS people.

"Okay. I'm ready to go."

"Then, let's go," Gibbs said.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Ducky looked at Tim and Kelly where they were sitting on the plane. Once they boarded, Tim had seated himself as far from the others as he could and Kelly sat beside him. Kelly had fallen asleep about halfway through the flight, but Tim was awake, staring out the window.

Ducky looked at the others. Tony, in particular, had let his guilt take control for the moment and he didn't seem keen on talking to Tim himself. Gibbs had already spoken with Tim once and he and Fornell were deep in conversation about what would happen next. Ellie...well, she was easily distracted by her other work, and she knew that she was still a bit of an outsider. She was sitting by Tony, though, and would offer conversation if he wanted it.

It was time to start bridging the gap that had arisen between Tim's old life and his new life. Ducky got to his feet and walked over to Tim.

"May I sit?" he asked.

Tim tore his gaze away from the window and nodded.

"Could I speak with you?"

"About what?" Tim asked, warily.

Ducky could see that Tim was worried about getting pulled into yet another awful memory, and perhaps it would be better to acknowledge that life he'd begun to build _after_ his abduction.

"I was curious about what you were doing at Hoopes farm during your time there."

Tim actually smiled a little.

"Why?"

"Because, although you don't remember, we are friends, and it's been a long time since I've had the chance to talk to you. I'd like to know what you've been doing."

Tim took a breath, looked at Kelly who was still asleep. Then, he looked back at Ducky.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything," Ducky said. "I'm not picky."

Tim smiled again, and it was nice to see.

"To start...I wasn't doing much. I was so weak and everything hurt. I didn't know what was going on...not that I really do now, but I was lost and hurt. The first time Marilyn gave me something to eat, at first, I didn't know I was hungry. She asked me if I wanted to eat. Why wouldn't I have known I was hungry?" Tim asked. "Because after the first bite, I was so desperate to eat that I was shoving it into my mouth with my hands."

"I would guess that your body adjusted to having less, a lot less, given your appearance, even now. You stopped expecting to be fed and learned to suppress the need. Then, when you began to eat, your body reacted to having nourishment again and demanded it."

"I haven't missed a meal since. Every time...I feel like I have to eat everything in front of me."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Ducky furrowed his brow.

"It's possible that you're still somewhat deficient in spite of what was, no doubt, good food at the Hoopes farm. I think we should make sure you get fully examined by a doctor when we get to DC. We probably should have done so in Montana."

Tim shrugged, seeming unconcerned. Ducky supposed that it seemed rather academic to him.

"So...after you recovered somewhat, what did you do?"

Again, there was a smile. "Anything I couldn't mess up."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't know anything about farming."

"You wouldn't have with your memories intact, either," Ducky said gently. "You're not a farmer."

He hesitated to reference Tim's amnesia lightly, but it seemed to be fine. Tim chuckled a little and looked out the window.

"That's...almost comforting. My ignorance is lifelong."

"In farming, yes."

"They taught me how to milk cows. It's kind of weird, but there's a kind of...rhythm you get into when you do it. It's almost relaxing after a while."

"I'm not surprised."

"They had me ride a horse, but I was a miserable failure at that. I hated it. A lot. I was so sore and I felt too out of control. So I went back to milking the cows. Marilyn let me weed the garden. It was a really simple life. It was...nice."

"It sounds like a hard place to leave."

Tim looked back at him.

"I didn't belong there, though. I wanted to, but even when I was there, being called John because I didn't know my name, I knew there was somewhere else I belonged...but I didn't know if I wanted to be in that place."

"Why not?"

"Because that place was where I could be tortured, I could be abandoned, where no one could miss me. ...but at the same time, it's where I am." Tim took a breath. "As afraid as I am of leaving, who I am is back there. Part of me wants to give it up, but most of me knows I can't."

Back out the window again.

Ducky saw Tim's ambivalence, but it was the first time he'd realized what Tim himself was expecting. Tim wanted to get _himself_ back, not his life, but his identity. Right now, he didn't see his life as necessarily the goal. It was knowing who he was that mattered.

"Timothy?"

"Yeah?"

"There's nothing wrong with that. You have had terrible experiences and you've had some good ones to help you recover. You need the balance of what you've lost, and I'm so glad to see that you have survived, that you got away from them. Abigail watched the video they left us over and over again, trying to find some clue that would help us find you. It was painful to see, to know what you must have been going through. I know you don't remember us, but we remember you, and no matter what you choose to do, I am overjoyed that you have the chance make a choice."

" _We're beginning our descent to Dulles."_

Kelly started and sat up, yawning.

"We're there?" she asked.

Tim turned away from Ducky, the camaraderie momentarily lost as Tim returned to what he knew.

"Almost," he said.

Ducky noticed something more than just what Tim knew. There was a definite connection between them.

"Okay. So...what happens first?" she asked, looking from Tim to Ducky and back to Tim again.

"I'm not sure myself, actually. We'll definitely want to give you plenty of time to see the trappings of your life, but you'll also need to go to NCIS as well...and I still would like you to have a complete checkup."

"Why?" Kelly asked. "We've taken good care of him."

"I don't doubt it, but just to be sure that there aren't long-term problems. Torture can leave scars that don't show...in addition to those that do."

Kelly nodded, but she seemed unwilling to trust them. In fact, she seemed more wary than Tim was.

Ducky smiled and walked back to his seat. Gibbs looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Ducky just nodded. He nodded and returned to his conversation with Fornell.

There was time. Now that Tim was coming back, there was time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The numbers were much lower, but the commitment to the cause was unchanged.

"The question isn't what do we want to do. The question is do we put it off again and try to rebuild or do we make a statement now. A firm statement that makes our position unmistakable."

"There are a lot of unknowns. If we do this, it's entirely possible that whoever delivers the message won't survive."

"It's true. Is it worth it? Ultimately, our goals are unchanged, but the timetable can be flexible because we want to do it right."

"Now is the time to make a statement, no matter the cost. Even a failure will still send a message. As long as there are some of us left, we can continue on."

"Is that the consensus?"

There were nods around the room.

"Then, let's make a plan. We have time, but not too much."

They began to make a new plan, knowing that they could be signing death warrants...but if they succeeded, the sacrifice would be worth it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly felt very nervous about everything that was going on. What helped was that Tim was nervous, too. So it wasn't as though she was being pushed aside once the wheels touched down.

Still, as they got off the plane, Kelly felt exposed as she hadn't in a long time. This wasn't her world, not anymore. She looked around and caught Tim's eye. He didn't look any happier than she was, but they stuck together as the group headed for the car.

"You all right with going to NCIS first, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim nodded mutely.

"You sure?"

Another silent nod.

"Okay. Let's go."

"Does Abby know?" Tony asked.

"We can run interference!" Ellie said, enthusiastically.

"No, thanks. I'd prefer to live through this."

"I've talked to her already," Gibbs said.

"Abby?" Kelly asked.

Tim shrugged. He didn't know, either.

"She'll make herself known," Ducky said, "but it's because she cares."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tim said.

They decided to take two cars to NCIS rather than try to squeeze everyone into one. Kelly, Tim and Ducky were in one and Gibbs, Tony and Ellie in the other. Fornell had said he was going back to the FBI to see if they'd found anything more about this group and he wished them all luck as he left.

On the way over to NCIS, Kelly had to bite her tongue to keep from asking Tim over and over if he remembered what he was seeing. These were sites he probably had seen almost daily. Right now, as he looked out the window, his expression was empty. He wasn't saying anything.

"Tim?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Is it familiar?" she asked.

Tim looked at her and then at Ducky who was driving.

"I don't know."

Kelly felt her brow furrow in surprise. She would have thought that the answer could only be yes or no. Tim seemed really tense, more than she would have expected.

He closed his eyes.

"Timothy?" Ducky asked from the front seat.

Kelly scooted closer to Tim and put an arm around him. He didn't relax at all, but he didn't say anything more, and she didn't push. Instead, there was tense silence the rest of the way.

Finally, they reached the Navy Yard. Ducky got them passed in and then parked the car.

They all got out and walked toward the building. Ducky led them around to the main entrance. It was a strange introduction to the kind of person Tim might be. It suddenly struck Kelly that Tim was a cop. Yes, it was for the Navy, not just a police officer, but he was a cop, the kind of person she had learned _not_ to trust. She almost stopped walking, but she forced herself to keep going. Tim hadn't done anything to her, hadn't avoided her. She had learned to know him before knowing his occupation.

Then, as she was thinking about that, Tim suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"I can't go in there," he said.

"What?" Kelly asked.

"I can't go in there. I can't go inside."

It was another one of those moments where a memory was intruding, but not completely. All he could do was remember. Before Kelly could try to help him through it, Ducky had taken over.

"Why not, Timothy?" he asked.

"He said he doesn't want to go in," Kelly protested. "You don't have to–"

Ducky looked at her.

"Ms. Hoopes, I know that, with your own recent experiences, you don't want to trust others, but trust me. This is more than just fear. There is something going on and Timothy is not the only victim. You _must_ let this progress as far as it will at this moment."

"How did you–?"

"I read the news, and I recognized your name. I understand your concerns and I share them, but they can't be all I think about," Ducky said and then turned back to Tim who seemed frozen in place.

"I can't go inside," he said again.

"Why not, Timothy? Think. What is it about the building that makes you afraid of it?"

"I can't go in. I don't...want...and..." Tim's breathing became loud and his knees began to buckle.

Ducky grabbed him by the arm and led him to a nearby bench. He sat beside him. Kelly wanted to help, but Ducky gestured for her to stay back. She had thought of him as a kind of old uncle, but she was seeing him now as a professional, and this was a world she didn't know anything about. She was forced to wait.

"Timothy, take a breath, a deep breath and let it out slowly."

Tim did so.

"Why can't you go into the building. What frightens you so much?"

Tim closed his eyes tightly and shook his head.

"Think, Timothy. This is important. Are you afraid of being enclosed? Of being trapped?"

"I can't go in. I can't see it...I can't..."

Ducky leaned closer.

"Why not, Timothy? You've seen it many times before. You know what it's like inside. You probably know every part of that building. You worked in most sections yourself."

Tim was clearly stuck in the fear. Kelly hated to see him like this. She wondered how Ducky could let him feel that without trying to bring him out of it.

"Timothy, open your eyes and look at me. You're perfectly safe right now."

Ducky turned Tim toward him and shook him just a little.

"Open your eyes."

Tim did.

"Tell me, Timothy. Why can't you see inside the building?"

Tim struggled to get it out. He was fighting to hold it in _and_ say it at the same time.

"Because I'll tell them!" Tim said, the words bursting out of him almost in a shout. "I'll tell them what I see! I'll tell them what I know! Just...Just stop...stop the pain. Stop the pain!"

Ducky looked at Kelly and gestured for her to come. She didn't hesitate but ran over and put her arms around Tim as he began rocking back and forth in agitation.

"It's all right, Tim," she said softly. "It's all right. It's over. It's over and you're okay."

After a few minutes, Tim calmed and reconnected. He looked at Ducky and then at Kelly. He didn't say anything at first. He looked at the building.

"They asked me about it."

"About the building?" Ducky asked, keeping his voice gentle.

Tim nodded.

"I can't...hear the questions...but they're...they asked me...about it...the building...here...and..." Tim closed his eyes again and swallowed hard as he struggled for control of his fear.

Kelly started rubbing his back, trying to get Tim to calm down.

"They wanted... What did they want?" Tim whispered. "What did they want? I can't...hear it because...because I can't say it..."

"You can, Timothy," Ducky said.

Kelly suppressed her desire to push Ducky away and make him leave Tim alone. Ducky's voice had changed and this was more encouraging than demanding. If Tim could share what was locked away in his mind, that would be great, but if not, it was okay.

"No...it's gone again," Tim said, near tears. "I get so close...and then, it's gone."

He took a deep breath and let it out quickly, holding back the tears from falling.

"I'm back where I came from and it's still gone."

"It'll come," Ducky said. "It'll come."

"Hey, what's up?"

Tim jumped, startled by the new voice. It was Tony. He and Gibbs and Ellie had caught up to them. Ellie gave a little wave, but Tony and Gibbs just looked at him.

"Are we moving outside?" Tony asked.

"Timothy had another memory, albeit an incomplete one."

"Again," Tim said. "I didn't want to go inside."

"Why not?" Gibbs asked.

"Because he said they had asked about the building," Kelly said. "He didn't want to see it."

"What about the building?" Gibbs asked.

"That's all he said."

"I can't make myself say it," Tim added, not looking at anyone.

"You ready to try going inside?" Gibbs asked.

Kelly felt Tim's entire body tense up at the question, but he straightened and nodded.

"Okay," he said.

Kelly helped him stand up and he walked toward the doors, behind the others. They were nice enough not to turn around and stare at him. Ducky was behind him, but Gibbs, Tony and Ellie went ahead. Tim paused, slowed down. Then, he looked her. Briefly.

"Keep me moving," he said in a low voice. "Don't let me stop."

"Tim, you don't have to go in if you don't want to."

"No, I do," Tim said. "This is part of my life. I can't keep running away. Just don't let me stop because I want to. I really, _really_ want to."

"Are you sure about this?" Kelly asked. "It doesn't seem worth it."

"It is. I hope it is." Tim swallowed again.

Kelly tightened her arm around Tim's shoulder and urged him forward.

"Thanks," he whispered and forced a little laugh.

"Anytime."

Their pace was slow, and Tim was dragging his feet even as he kept walking.

Then, they got to the door. Tim stopped again. He took another breath and stepped inside.

Kelly thought it had been all right...but then, Tim stiffened again and his breathing sped up. He was pushing back against her arm. She looked at him. His eyes were wide, but she could tell that he wasn't seeing anything. It was like when he had climbed into the shower in his sleep. His eyes had been open, but he hadn't seen them. What he _was_ seeing, she didn't know, but she knew he wasn't seeing her.

"Tim? Tim!"

He dropped to the floor and covered his head with his hands.

"Dr. Mallard," Kelly said.

Ducky was already coming over to kneel beside Tim.

"Jethro!" he said.

He didn't need to get Gibbs' attention. Tim suddenly did that.

"No!" he screamed. "No! I won't!"

He threw himself onto his back and let out a wordless scream. Whatever he was seeing, it was clearly a memory of his captivity.

How far would he go?


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

" _What do you want from me?" Tim asked, clenching his teeth against the pain of his broken wrist._

" _We'll get to that. I think you need to be shown how important it is that you cooperate."_

" _I won't cooperate no matter what you do."_

" _We'll see."_

 _They stripped him naked and drenched him with water. Then, one of them brought out a machine of some kind. Tim didn't know what it was, but when they pulled out the wires with the probes, he began to get a bad feeling. Wires...wet skin...a bad combination._

He screamed.

"Tim, can you hear me?"

" _You will tell us everything about NCIS from the front door on."_

 _Tim forced a laugh through the tears of pain._

" _Take a tour."_

He screamed again.

" _You are an agent. You know about every part of the building. You are a computer expert. You have knowledge, more than other agents have. You'll tell us. If you do, the pain will stop."_

" _Bite me."_

He screamed.

"Timothy, it's not happening now. You're safe. Can you hear that?"

" _You didn't like that, did you. If you just tell us, you won't have to feel it again."_

" _Do what you want," he ground out. "I won't."_

" _You will. Eventually."_

 _That's what scared him. The longer this lasted, the more likely it was that they were right._

He screamed.

"Tim, please...please, hear us. Hear what we're saying."

 _They put him in the trunk. He was in there for a long time. It was hot and then cold, uncomfortable. They didn't give him anything more than a little bit of water occasionally. Just enough to keep him alive._

 _Then, they were in another place. More cramped. Less clean._

" _Just tell us and the pain will stop. You already know how long we can make this last. Forever. No one knows where you are. No one cares. Except us. We know, and you are at our mercy. Are you ready for that?"_

 _He found some saliva (or was it blood?) and spat in the direction of the voice._

He screamed.

"He did this once before...in the bathtub at home...but he was asleep and when we woke him up, he stopped."

" _Give us the layout. Tell us what you know."_

" _I...don't...know...anything..." He managed to get the words out, but only at a whisper...and he knew what was coming next. That was all he knew._

He screamed.

"Do you want me to call an ambulance, Agent Gibbs?"

"No, Henry. I think we just need to try to get him out of this, if we can."

"Are you sure, Dr. Mallard? I hate seeing him like this."

" _We were going to just get someone inside, you know, but vetting got better, and security was tightened. It was too late to get a stranger inside. Not at the level we needed. You've been inside for years. Tell us and the pain will stop."_

" _...don't...know...what...you're talking about..."_

" _Yes, you do."_

" _No...no...don't know..."_

He screamed. He would have writhed but he was tied down.

"Timothy, they don't have you. You're safe. You're at NCIS and you're safe."

"Come on, McGee. Snap out of it."

" _Again."_

" _...no..."_

" _Then, tell us what we want to know. The structure of NCIS, from basement to the rooftop. Everything. Every room, every floor, what you know about the construction, where the classified information is held. Everything."_

" _Don't...know what...you mean...please...stop..."_

He screamed.

There was a feeling from somewhere else. A swat on the back of his head. He felt it and it wasn't what he was experiencing. It was somehow familiar. It broke through the pain.

"Don't you hit him!"

He felt shaky, sweaty. He felt sick, actually.

"I...I feel..."

"Tim? Tim, can you hear me?"

He couldn't open his eyes. They were too heavy.

"I feel...sick."

He really did. Before he could do anything else, he felt the bile rise and he start to retch. Hands on his arms pulled him to a sitting position as he started to throw up. Then, he was just coughing and trembling. He managed to get his eyes open for a moment, but all he saw was what he'd just thrown up. His eyes closed again.

"Tim, can you hear me?"

He nodded.

"Y-Yeah...I h-h-hear."

His stomach ached, now. His brain felt like it was throbbing. He was shaking. All in all, it wasn't a pleasant situation...but at least, he could be fairly certain that he was in the present, now.

"You're safe. You're at NCIS, but you're safe. No one is going to hurt you."

There was something about that. Hurting. What was it? He was _almost_ remembering.

"They...They...wanted the...the layout, s-s-structure...the...they..."

"Timothy, wait. Don't force it right now. Let yourself get out of the memory."

Tim swallowed and nodded. That was okay with him.

"Let's not leave him here. Henry, could you get maintenance up here to...clean up?"

"Sure. Will he be all right?"

"I think so. Eventually."

Tim could hear the conversations going on around him, but he was mostly focused on not throwing up again.

"Tim, can you hear me?"

The voice was soft, just behind him. Kelly.

"Yeah."

"Don't let yourself forget again. Only make yourself go through this once."

Then, there was a hand on his arm. He covered it with his own hand, although he was shaking quite a bit, still.

"Already...did it once...this is the s-s-second time."

"Don't make it a third, then."

"S-Sounds good."

"Timothy?"

Tim tried to open his eyes again and he made it this time. Ducky was there in front of him.

"Your face is almost white, Timothy, and your pulse is racing. Do you feel like you could get up?"

Tim shook his head.

"All right. Jethro, Anthony?"

Tim didn't feel like he could look around, although he could sense the movement around him. Then, he was being lifted to his feet. His head spun unpleasantly and his stomach roiled. He managed to keep himself from throwing up again, but it was a near thing. He felt awful, but he was in the present and no one was shocking him until he wished he was dead. That was an improvement. He couldn't support himself, but they weren't forcing him to.

"We've got you, McGee," Tony said. "Don't worry. We'll be your legs."

"Okay."

Tim let them essentially carry him to the elevator. They got on the elevator.

"Up to the balcony," Gibbs said.

"Surely, you're not going to make him speak to the director, _now_ ," Ducky protested.

"No. Conference room."

The elevator made him dizzy and he reeled against either Tony or Gibbs. He didn't know which.

"Steady there, Probie. We're not at Six Flags. It's just an elevator."

Then, there was forward movement again. Tim wasn't bothering to contribute much. He was just focusing on not throwing up again and not forgetting what he'd remembered...and trying to remember the stuff that was around the edges of what he'd remembered. It was bad enough that he couldn't touch these pleasant memories people kept telling him he had. He wasn't about to plumb the depths of his misery if he didn't have to.

" _Still nothing?"_

" _He's resisting."_

" _Maybe we're giving him too much downtime."_

" _What do you want to do?"_

" _Let him feel it more."_

Tim swallowed.

"Sick..." he whispered.

"You going to throw up again?"

Tim closed his eyes again, breathing heavily. He started to retch again. This time, when he started to vomit, there was a garbage can in front of him.

Then, he was being pushed down onto a chair. Once he finished, the garbage can vanished and someone pushed his head down so that it was between his knees.

"Breathe slowly and deeply, Timothy."

He tried to do what he was told.

"Get him some water, please, Ellie."

"Of course."

"Another memory?"

Tim just nodded. It was like every step he took in the building triggered another memory...only all the memories were of his captivity. He didn't think that was very fair.

Then, there was something cold being put in his hand.

"Here's some water, Tim. You got it?"

Tim curled his fingers around the glass and brought it up to his mouth. He was still shaking, but it was nice to get the water into his mouth and get rid of the nasty acidic taste of bile. He still had his eyes closed, but he kept drinking the water.

"I didn't expect this at all, Jethro. It was a surprise to me, and it was clearly a shock to Timothy."

The low voices were still audible, but Tim found that he didn't care that they were talking about him.

"What now, Duck?"

"We let him recover from this onslaught and then see what he can handle."

"All right."

"Ms. Hoopes, feel free to sit down, too."

There was another sense of movement and Kelly was beside him once more.

"Tim, are you all right?"

"I don't...know why this is...h-h-happening right n-now," he whispered.

"I don't, either, but I'm here, still."

"Thanks."

He kept breathing slowly, and then, he thought he could open his eyes again. He looked around the room. It was a rather bland room. Gibbs and Ducky were talking together by the door. Tony and Ellie were looking at him with concern.

"Where am I?" he asked softly.

"NCIS, McGee," Tony said, with a worried expression.

"No...in the building. Where am I?"

"Upper floor. Conference room."

Tim nodded and closed his eyes again. He leaned forward and rested his head on the table. Kelly began rubbing his back which felt nice. He began to relax. After a few minutes, he sat up and looked at Gibbs.

"They wanted...to know about the...about this building," he said, a little annoyed at how shaky his voice was.

"Timothy, it can wait."

Tim shook his head.

"That's all they asked me. What was it like. Every part from the bottom to the top. They asked me in a lot of different ways. They just kept asking and asking and asking, even when I didn't know what they meant, even when I was just...so...lost and..." Tim remembered a moment. He leaned back on the chair.

"What, Tim?" Gibbs asked. He sat down.

Tim couldn't meet his gaze. He looked up at the ceiling and covered his mouth with his hands.

"It was...so...quiet that night. So quiet and...and there was... They hadn't...yet. And..."

"What?"

Slowly, Tim forced his eyes down, hoping that by looking at Gibbs he could just touch the memory without living it again.

"Maybe...we should give it up. He's not...telling us anything," Tim said softly, staring at Gibbs.

Gibbs said nothing and he didn't look away.

"We need...to see if...if we can...do it. NCIS is...a minor target. If we can get them...we can make plans for the bigger...goal."

Tim could feel what was coming again. It was the same thing that kept happening.

Gibbs leaned forward and grabbed Tim by the arm.

"Tim, what is the bigger goal?"

 _They were coming again. Multiple targets. He couldn't let that happen. Everything was so foggy, and what if he weakened and told them what they wanted? He closed his eyes tightly. He'd been struggling to remember everything, thinking that forgetting might mean that he'd say something he shouldn't. No. Not anymore._

"Forget. Have to forget. Can't tell them if I don't know."

 _The door opened._

" _Tell me what the building is like, the secure areas, the mail room. Everything."_

 _He shook his head...but he couldn't keep himself from flinching as the probe touched his bare skin. It was cold now, but that wouldn't last long. He'd be on fire soon enough._

Even as he screamed from the pain, he tried to keep only one thought in his mind.

"Forget. Forget."

"You don't have to forget it now. Open your eyes."

Tim opened his eyes and tried to breathe without getting sick again.

"Forget," he whispered again.

"No, don't forget. Not this time."

"Have to..."

"No. Not this time. We need you to remember. Look at me."

Tim raised his head and met Gibbs' gaze again.

"Don't forget. I know it's hard to remember, but you need to this time."

"I know you," Tim said, suddenly. "I know who you are. You left me."

"No. We didn't leave you. They took you. What was their goal?"

"You're the boss," Tim said. "You made me stay here. I was alone."

"What did they want to do, Tim?" Gibbs asked. "You need to remember."

Tim looked at him. He couldn't look anywhere else.

"They'll...think it's about the military," he said.

"It's not?"

"They'll think it's the Navy."

"What's the real target, then?"

Tim struggled to pull the answer out of his mind. It was there, but asking for it was really hard.

"Just say it, Tim. You need to tell us."

"I...I can almost hear it...but..."

Tim wanted to tell Gibbs, but everything inside him was screaming to forget it.

"Jethro, this may be too much too soon. There's time."

"Law enforcement!" Tim burst out. "Federal...law...get rid of it. Show that...that the American people don't want it. That's what...they're doing. That's what they want. They wanted to make...a statement." It was like the block had vanished and he had to talk as much as possible to get it out before he drowned in it. "They have to know where everything is to know where to plant explosives, where people would leave, where they could be in position to shoot as people ran. They had to know it all. They wanted to get it from me. They kept asking and when I said no they'd turn it on, over and over, and they left it on, longer and longer. It was like it burned out my brain and they...they kept it going...until I begged them to kill me. I wanted to die. I wanted to be dead. They wouldn't let me die and so...I let everything else die. And...and...that's all there was...all it was and..." He was starting to lose control again. He was surrounded by what he'd given up and it was pounding on his brain. He closed his eyes and tried to keep his mind from melting into a puddle. "I screamed and screamed and no one heard me...except them."

"We're hearing you now, Timothy. Just breathe slowly."

"Why now?" he whispered. "I tried and tried to remember before."

"But you're home now, Timothy. The things you forgot, the things you tried to remember are all around you. You can't escape them now."

"Is there anything good that I'm going to remember?" he asked.

Tim felt hands on his shoulders. He opened his eyes. Gibbs had been replaced by Ducky. He was smiling.

"Yes, Timothy. I promise that there is a _lot_ of good you will remember, given the time."

Tim looked at Ducky and Gibbs...and Ellie and Tony behind them. Then, he looked over at Kelly. What would happen if and when he remembered everything? What would his life be like?


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Tony and Ellie were in the bullpen filling out reports while Ducky and Gibbs were still up with Tim and Kelly.

"How in the world did Gibbs keep Abby from running up there and killing McGee with kindness?" Ellie asked in a low voice.

"I don't know, but I'll bet it won't last much longer," Tony said absently. He was distracted by what he'd seen. Tim wasn't generally an extremely emotional person. He didn't usually show much. ...but touching those memories of the time when he'd been missing was enough to turn him into a shrieking, terrified stranger. What did that say for what had happened? They hadn't saved him from it. Nothing they'd done had saved him.

The phone on his desk rang. He thought about not answering, but that was never a good idea.

"Agent DiNozzo."

" _Hello, Tony."_ Her voice was more heavily accented than it had been, but still unmistakable.

"Ziva?"

Ellie looked up in surprise.

" _Have you found McGee? I got your messages."_

"Nice to hear from you, Miss David. It's been a long time. I'm fine. How are you?"

" _Tony, you left a message saying that Tim had been abducted. That is my main concern. Other things can wait until later."_

"We found him. He's a mess," Tony said. "He was tortured for six months, and he has amnesia. Ducky thinks it's caused by psychological trauma. He's remembered something, but not much besides being tortured."

There was a long silence.

" _I am...sorry, Tony. That sounds terrible...but I am glad that you found him."_

"I left the messages weeks ago. Months ago."

" _I was...busy. I have not been seeing anyone at all."_

"So it wasn't just because the messages were from me?"

" _Of course not. I called you as soon as I got the messages. Do you need anything from me? Can I help?"_

"I don't know yet," Tony said. "It's been kind of crazy here. I don't suppose you could hop on over here?"

" _No."_

That was all. Just a negative.

" _But I will be with Schmiel for a few days. If you call, I will be here."_

Tony knew that was the best he could expect.

"Thank you, Ziva. Tim will appreciate it...when he remembers you."

" _Tony... It has been...a long time. Thank you for thinking of me. I was surprised to hear from you, even before I knew why."_

"Ziva..."

" _You may call me...later. Good-bye, Tony."_

"Bye, Ziva."

Tony hung up and sat back with a sigh.

"Ziva?" Ellie asked.

"Yeah. If Tim decides he wants to, she said she'd be around for him to call."

"That's good," Ellie said with a determinedly upbeat tone.

Tony hadn't told her anything about Ziva, but she'd be completely oblivious if she didn't realize there was something complicated there.

"Yeah. It's good. If anything is good about this."

"Hey, Tim is back. He's safe from those people who tortured him. He's not alone."

"He wasn't alone before, remember? He still hasn't remembered anything good about being here. Seeing him go through that again...man, Ellie. It's...wrong. Isn't once bad enough?"

"Yeah, it is. And twice is worse," Ellie says.

"Thanks."

Ellie smiled.

"Tony...this is what we've been hoping for since Tim disappeared. He's back. He's safe. If things aren't really perfect yet, they have the chance to be. He's only been in DC for a few hours. You can't expect it to be all right yet."

"Yeah. I know. I just hate that he thinks we abandoned him."

"He'll realize we didn't."

"Maybe."

"No. He will. When he has a chance to think without re-experiencing all that, he'll know."

"I hope so."

Tony looked up toward the balcony. It just wasn't right that Tim was finally back but still so miserable.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim still felt miserable. He'd let his head fall back to the table, feeling drained by the intense memories. The only comfort was Kelly's quiet presence. She hadn't said anything more, letting him have quiet. Thankfully, Ducky wasn't saying anything, either. Gibbs had left at some point. Tony and Ellie were gone, too.

He thought about saying something, but he was now afraid that anything he said, anything he saw, would send him reeling back into his recent past...and he didn't want that. He'd remembered enough. He was now ready to give up on that and embrace not knowing. In fact, what was he even doing here? Why had he thought this was a good idea?

Tim forced himself to sit up.

"I can't do this," he said, not sure to whom he was speaking, really. "It's too hard."

Ducky's expression was only sympathetic.

"Timothy, perhaps we should take a break from the serious questions right now. How would you feel about seeing your home?"

"Away from here?" Tim asked.

"Yes. Away from NCIS. I do still want you to get a full checkup, but we could go to your home, first. How do you feel about that?"

"Yes, please," Tim said. Maybe it was wimpy of him, but he had never felt so overwhelmed.

"All right. You and Ms. Hoopes can wait here for a moment while I tell Jethro about the change in plans."

"Will there be a problem?" Kelly asked.

Tim didn't care if there would be, personally.

"If there is, I will make sure it still happens," Ducky said, firmly.

Tim was surprised. He looked at Ducky for a moment, and Ducky smiled.

"You need the time away, Timothy. I can see it. Anyone looking at you for a more than a second could see it. None of us could have anticipated how you reacted to being here, and I'm sorry for it. Would that we could go back and give you a more positive first impression."

"Yeah."

"Since I can't do that for you, I will do the next best thing and give you the time you need."

Ducky slipped out the room and Tim looked at Kelly. She smiled.

"Wow, Tim. This is nothing like I expected."

"I didn't expect it, either."

"I know. How are you feeling right now?"

"I just want to get out of here."

"We will. I trust Dr. Mallard."

"I feel like I can, too."

Kelly hugged Tim tightly.

"You'll get through this, Tim. I know you will."

"I hope you're right."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was ready to do battle, if necessary. He hoped it wouldn't be, but he could see how drained Tim had become by that sudden onslaught of memories, not one of which had been pleasant. He would do what it took to get Tim his recovery time. They wouldn't get him back by pushing him beyond his limits.

"Ms. Long, is Agent Gibbs in there?"

Pamela nodded.

"Yes."

"Might I join them?"

"Of course! Go on in."

"Thank you."

Ducky stepped inside Vance's office and saw Gibbs and Vance talking together at the table.

"Dr. Mallard," Vance said. "How is Agent McGee feeling now?"

"Overwhelmed, to put it mildly," Ducky said. "I'm afraid he needs to get away from the building for a few hours...at the least."

"Oh?"

"Yes. His flashbacks were so intense that he has been drained by them. He's ready to give up at this point."

"Already?"

"Director, Timothy is reliving six months of torture with nothing positive to make him feel that the effort is worth it. He needs to see that there _is_ more to the life he forgot than the agony he's suffered. Otherwise, we'll lose him, again. Torture is the kind of psychological trauma that can't simply be ignored or avoided. When the memories come, they are often intense and painful. Even the therapy for torture victims is different than for other types of psychological damage. We must let Timothy escape from the pain, at least, for a little while."

Vance looked at Gibbs and then back.

"Very well. Gibbs told me about what he said these people wanted. I'd be lying if I said I'm happy about letting him leave without as much as he can tell us, but I'll take your advice. Understand, however, Dr. Mallard, that while I'm sympathetic to Agent McGee's needs, I can't forget about the needs of the many more people who stand to be in danger because of those who captured him."

"I understand. It will be a balancing act and I will do my best to keep it from falling to one side or the other."

"Very well. Go ahead."

"Thank you, Director."

Ducky left the office, knowing that Vance was right, but hating it all the same. The last thing he wanted was to cause Tim to feel yet more pain. It was unlikely that he'd be able to relate any details without experiencing them again. However, if they hadn't caught all of the people involved in the planned attack on the building, as was likely, more delay would mean more danger for everyone who worked here, including Tim himself.

Still, he was determined to let Tim see something good, something that would forge new connections to his old life.

He walked back into the conference room and saw Tim leaning against Kelly. He was still very pale. Ducky was actually worried about another walk through the building triggering yet another foray into Tim's memories.

The two hadn't noticed him yet.

From a clinical point of view, Ducky had to admit that it was fascinating that Tim's amnesia seemed to be, at least partially, voluntary. If what he'd said during his flashbacks was accurate, he had _tried_ to forget things just so that he couldn't reveal any information. If he didn't know it, he couldn't say it. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard of that kind of amnesia before. More than likely, it was the trauma from the torture that made it possible, but in the end, Tim had _wanted_ to forget. It was just that he'd forgotten _everything_ and, now, was having trouble accessing those memories again.

He cleared his throat. Tim jumped and took a deep, shaky breath. He tried to smile.

"So...uh...Ducky?"

Ducky smiled at Tim's attempt to be familiar with someone he didn't really remember yet.

"If you're up to walking, I'll take you outside and we'll give you a break."

"Okay."

Tim got up, but he leaned against Kelly a little bit. They headed for the door, and then, Tim stopped.

"Will I have to go through that again?" he asked.

"I don't know, Timothy."

Tim swallowed and then, he looked at Ducky.

"Could I...close my eyes? Would that be too...wimpy?"

"If you would like to close your eyes, Ms. Hoopes and I can help you out."

"Thanks."

Tim closed his eyes and Ducky smiled at Kelly before taking hold of one of Tim's arms. Kelly stood on the other side and they walked toward the elevator. Ducky looked down at the balcony and saw Tony and Ellie looking up. He put a finger to his lips. He wanted to get Tim out of the building with no further problems...if it was possible.

They got on the elevator, rode down to the main level and then headed for the door.

"Ducky?"

"We're fine, Henry," Ducky said quickly. "We'll be back."

Henry nodded, although he looked a little surprised at the sight of Tim walking with his eyes closed.

They got out of the building and into Ducky's car. Tim sighed with relief.

"I made it."

"Yes, you did."

"I'm sorry, Ducky. I just..."

"Timothy, you don't have to justify yourself to me. You never do. This is something that I would like to do for you and, since I can, I will."

Tim smiled.

"So...to my home?"

"Yes. We've cleaned it a few times, but otherwise, it's exactly as it was when you disappeared."

"It's been more than eight months," Tim said in surprise.

"Yes, but we kept hoping that we'd get some sign of where you were and we couldn't bear to assume that we'd never find you. We made arrangements with your landlord. The power isn't on, but you'll be able to see your home and the things that belong to you."

"Oh."

Ducky smiled as he headed away from NCIS. He wasn't above planting the seeds of reconciliation, that Tim's friends were worried about him, had been frightened for him...that he had _not_ been abandoned as he thought.

The ride over to Tim's place was mostly silent, but when they pulled in front of the building, Tim let out one more question...or rather, the same question, asked again.

"What if none of it is familiar to me?" he asked.

Ducky worried about that, too, but given Tim's reactions just to the NCIS building, he would be very surprised if Tim remembered absolutely nothing. All of it? That was another matter, but nothing?

"Let's just go inside and see, shall we?"

"Okay."

Together, Tim and Kelly got out of the back seat and followed Ducky to the building. They stopped at the door and the Ducky decided to let Tim have his first look on his own terms. He turned back and held out the keys.

"It's your home, Timothy."

Tim hesitated and then, he took the keys and put them in the lock. He turned the knob and paused.

"What if I don't remember?" he asked again.

"Just go in, Tim," Kelly said.

"Okay."

Tim pushed the door open and stepped into his apartment. There was so much to see and yet the space was so small.

"This is where I live?" Tim asked, after a few moments of silence.

"Yes."

Tim walked forward, looking around. Ducky couldn't see his face; so he didn't know what Tim was thinking.

Then, Tim stopped and looked to the side. Ducky smiled. The typewriter would get anyone's attention, but to a person who didn't know what to expect, it would likely seem out of place next to all the computer parts.

Without speaking, Tim walked over to the typewriter and sat down.

"I remember this," he said softly.

"What about it?" Kelly asked.

"I like to type. I..." Tim stood up suddenly and went to the bookcase. He scanned the bookcase for a few seconds and then pulled a book of the shelf.

"I wrote this. I typed it on...on this typewriter." He held out the book to Kelly.

"It says it was written by Thom E. Gemcity," Kelly said.

Before Tim could start questioning again, Ducky decided to step in.

"That's your penname, Timothy."

"It says it's a bestseller," Kelly said, in surprise.

"Yes, it was very successful," Ducky said, smiling. "Timothy made quite a bit of money from it."

"Really?"

"Yes, although he didn't let us know about it at first."

"Why Gemcity?" Kelly asked.

"It's an anagram of my name," Tim said. "I didn't want anyone to know that I was publishing a book. ...but I loved it...and no one else did. They were mad at me for it."

Ducky sighed inwardly. Of course, Tim would remember _that_. However, since it was true, he couldn't pretend that Tim was mistaken.

Before he could try and ameliorate the possible problem, Tim set the book down and went back to the typewriter.

"I was working on a sequel...and two men got killed. Someone had...had started...going after them." Tim sighed and looked at Ducky again. "Is this the good stuff?"

Ducky smiled sadly. "No, Timothy. I'm afraid the stronger the emotion, the more likely it is that you'll remember it. The happier, calmer times may take some extra time to come out."

Tim sighed again and looked at the typewriter.

"I remember sitting here. A lot."

"It was your hobby, one that you kept hidden for a while because it was a part of your life that you held dear."

Tim nodded and then, he looked at the typewriter again.

"I'd started another book. I hadn't got very far. My publisher wasn't interested in it and I hadn't found a new one."

Ducky was surprised. Tim had never told anyone that he was starting to write again...at least, he'd never told anyone who had shared it.

"Really."

"You didn't know?" Tim asked.

"No. Although I'm not surprised you chose to keep it to yourself. What kind of book?"

Tim actually smiled. "Fantasy."

Ducky smiled in return. "Fitting for your interests."

Tim looked around the room and his smile faded.

"But I don't remember everything."

"It will take time, Timothy."

"It's already been two months."

"But only a few hours since you've been back."

"Yeah."

Tim was silent again. He got up and walked into the bedroom. Kelly tagged along behind, but Ducky waited. He wanted to help Tim, but he also didn't want Tim to feel the pressure to remember which would only aggravate his rather frayed nerves.

As he had told Vance, it was a delicate balance, and Ducky just hoped that they could find it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

"Gibbs, I know that you want to give McGee the time he needs. I just don't know if we have that time. We've caught a number of the people in this group, but we have no idea how many more there are, what their timetable might be or if they'll move on to another target," Vance said.

"If he keeps having flashbacks, he's not going to be able to tell us much, anyway, Leon."

"More than if we don't try at all. Look, I am glad that you found him. I'm sorry for what he went through, but McGee can't be all I think about. I don't have that luxury. I _have_ to worry about the bigger picture."

"I know," Gibbs said, as much as it galled him to admit it.

"We can take it easy on him, but we can't ignore that he probably knows more than he's told us."

"If he remembers."

"Yes. I know that's a problem."

Vance sat at his desk and looked at Gibbs sternly. He was being the director, and that's all he could be. Gibbs knew that but it didn't stop him from hating that it was necessary.

"Get him back here today...unless it's genuinely impossible."

Gibbs nodded and left Vance's office. He went down to the bullpen where Ellie and Tony were still sitting and, ostensibly, working at their desks.

"McGee left?" he asked.

"Yeah...with his eyes closed," Tony said. "And Ziva called."

Gibbs was surprised. He really hadn't expected her to contact them, even if she got the messages. Her determination to separate herself from her past had been very strong.

"What did she say?"

"She's glad we found Tim. She's sorry about what happened and that, if it would help, we could call her in the next few days and she'd talk to Tim."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. That's it."

Not much, but more than he'd expected.

"Hasn't Abby come up?" he asked.

"Should she have?"

"We figured that you'd made her stay downstairs so that she didn't overwhelm Tim on his first trip back."

Gibbs furrowed his brow. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Abby. He'd planned on intercepting her when she came up and, now that Tim wasn't even in the building, it had been a moot point. She had known when they were going to be here.

Why hadn't she come up?

"When is Tim coming back?"

"Don't know," Gibbs said. "It'll have to be soon."

He headed for Abby's lab, leaving Tony and Ellie behind. When he got there, he knew right away that there was trouble.

...because there was no music playing.

"Abbs?"

There was no response. That was worrying.

"Abbs."

Abby walked into view. She looked at him for a moment and then ran over and hugged him tightly.

"What's wrong?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly watched as Tim walked around his bedroom. He kept wanting to remember everything right away and it was troubling to him that he wasn't. She was trying to stay back but be available if he needed her.

Tim sighed and sat on the bed. He looked at her.

"It's like I'm looking at all this stuff through layers of cloth. It's... It seems like it could be familiar, but it doesn't feel like it's me, like it's mine. It's just...stuff."

"That's more than you had before," Kelly said.

Tim looked around the room again and then returned his gaze to her.

"I'm a cop," he said.

Kelly smiled. "I won't hold that against you."

"Are you sure?"

Kelly could see Tim worrying about that...in addition to everything he had to worry about. She made a decision. She needed to give Tim time without her there, time when he could focus on his life without wondering about her and her reaction.

"I'm sure. Tim...I think I'm going to go and get a hotel room so that I have somewhere to stay while I'm here."

Tim stood up quickly, some anxiety in his expression.

"I'm not leaving. I promise. I'm just going to get a room and call my parents. I'll see you later today, okay?"

Tim smiled weakly. "Okay."

Kelly hugged Tim quickly.

"Don't worry."

"That's asking a bit much."

"I know."

Kelly left Tim in the bedroom and found Ducky waiting in the main room.

"Dr. Mallard?"

"Yes, Ms. Hoopes?"

"I need to get to a hotel."

"Oh, of course. Is Timothy ready?"

She shook her head and lowered her voice.

"He needs to have time with his life here...not with me hovering around the edges. He's staying, and I'll see him later. Is that all right?"

"Of course, it is. I'll call someone to give you a ride. I don't want to leave Timothy alone."

"I could get a taxi, I'm sure."

"Yes, you could, but it would be an unnecessary expense. I'll call over to NCIS and let them know. Someone will come and give you a ride."

"Okay."

"Your attitude is admirable."

Kelly smiled skeptically.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you are taking the time to consider what will be best for Timothy, not just what you want or even what might be easiest for him. Not everyone can do that, and it should be acknowledged that you are."

"I just want him to get through all this terrible stuff, Dr. Mallard. It's so hard to see him struggling with it. I care about him. That's the only reason I agreed to come along. I would rather have stayed where I belong...but I can't do that. Once, I saw him have a flashback and he was so stuck in it, in the pain, that he almost fell into the canal. If my brother hadn't come by, I'm not sure I would have been able to keep him from falling. When he came out of it, he didn't even realize what he'd done, and I never told him how close he came to falling. He's stuck in the power of those memories, of the people who did that to him, and I hate that he can't just live his life. If stepping away for a little while will help, then, that's the least I can do."

"I don't know whether it will or not, but it's something to try. Unless I miss my guess, Timothy will be required to face those terrible memories again...today."

"Today? Hasn't he gone through enough?"

"Unfortunately, no. This has every indication of being a very big problem, encompassing the lives of hundreds of people, if not thousands. While you and I are most concerned about Timothy and his life, those who are in charge _must_ think about the needs of the majority."

"But..." Kelly didn't even bother to go on. She looked back toward the bedroom. Tim had already suffered so much because someone wanted something from him. Now, he would have to suffer again for the same reason, just from the other side.

"I know," Ducky said. "It's not fair. Alas, life is rarely fair, and people who are the least deserving of it often suffer the most."

Kelly nodded.

"I'll call NCIS."

"Thank you."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What if Tim never remembers me, Gibbs?" Abby asked.

"He's starting to remember, Abby," Gibbs said, surprised at her reaction.

Abby just shook her head and hugged him again.

"Abby, what's going on?"

"I'm afraid, Gibbs."

"Of what?"

"I'm afraid that he's going to blame me for not finding him. I looked at the video over and over! I never found anything!"

Gibbs didn't answer...mostly because he wasn't sure what to say. He had assumed that Abby would kill Tim with kindness, not avoid him completely. This wasn't the Abby he knew.

"And then...I'm afraid of seeing...the same thing I saw when you forgot us."

"What do you mean?"

Abby pulled back and looked at him, mascara running down her cheeks.

"I'm afraid of looking in his eyes and seeing nothing...like I did when you didn't remember me."

"I remembered you, eventually, Abbs. So will Tim."

"But when? _You_ ran away to Mexico! Tim's already been gone. He might go back and leave us again...because he doesn't remember how much we care about him...how much _I_ care about him. I didn't want to leave him with those people! I didn't..."

Gibbs kissed Abby on the cheek.

"He's been remembering things when he sees them. Not everything, but some. He won't have the chance to remember you if you hide down here."

Abby sniffled and smiled.

"I just wanted him to come back here and...and be him."

"So did he. It's gonna take time, Abbs."

"Okay."

"So be patient."

"Okay."

"And stop hiding down here."

"Okay."

Gibbs smiled, although he didn't really feel like smiling.

"It's going to work out."

"Okay, Gibbs."

Gibbs kissed Abby on the cheek once more and then, he left the lab. He didn't feel nearly as confident about it as he'd said. When he'd lost his memory, he hadn't lost everything. He'd known who he was. He just hadn't remember the last few years. Tim had lost everything and all he'd remembered so far was the misery of his captivity. This was a very different situation, and he had no idea how it was going to go. He also hated that he'd have to force Tim to remember more of that so soon. He'd been shocked by how violent Tim's flashbacks had been.

This was the one place where he and Tim did have something in common. It had been vital that he remember and he'd done it out of necessity. ...and then, he'd run away from the life he'd only vaguely started remembering to get the chance to deal with all he'd had to face. He didn't know if Tim would do that or not. He'd already been away, but it had been because he'd had no idea where to go.

This whole situation could go badly or well. It was all a matter of how Tim reacted to what he had to do.

Regardless, Gibbs wanted to give Tim as much time as possible to figure himself out. He deserved that.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim heard Kelly leave, and he had to keep himself from following after her. This was the first time he'd been completely away from the people who had saved him. He felt...abandoned, and he knew it was irrational to feel that way. He knew, logically, that he was still with someone he knew, who would care about him...but at the same time, he _didn't_ really know Ducky that well. He seemed familiar, but only in a vague acquaintance kind of way. It bothered Tim that he was still so cut off. The only reasons he wasn't assuming that this was all a trick was because, first of all, it would be a trick of epic proportions given the number of people and places he'd seen. Second of all, he _was_ getting something back. He just wasn't sure he _wanted_ it back.

In fact, this whole situation pretty much sucked. He didn't fit in at the Hoopes farm. He knew that. He knew that wasn't where he belonged, but all he was getting here was misery. It didn't seem fair that his return to his life was centered only on the misery of the last eight months and then, the unfortunate occurrences that seemed to plague him, based on what little he'd remembered.

What kind of a life was that?

A crappy life. That's what it was.

"Timothy?"

Tim turned around.

"Doctor... Uh, Ducky..." Tim said, stumbling to the nickname that was both more appropriate and less.

Ducky smiled.

"You don't have to be so informal with me if you don't want to be, lad."

"Yes, I do...because formal doesn't feel right, either."

Tim sat down on the bed again. His bed. This bed that belonged to him in this place that was his.

"Was I this much of an idiot before?" he asked.

"You're not an idiot at all, Timothy," Ducky said, sitting beside him.

"Then, why can't I remember and why do I want to curl up in a little ball in the corner and hide?" Tim asked.

"Timothy, your situation is, so far as I am aware, unique. I can't say why you're in the position you are."

"What's unique about it?"

"Apparently, you made a semi-voluntary choice to forget your life, to forget your identity, to forget everything about yourself in an effort to keep us safe. Now, while I think that this kind of amnesia wouldn't have been possible in the normal course of things, coupled with the trauma of your captivity, it's become something you see as necessary, even if only subconsciously. You can't let your memories come in because it's too dangerous."

"But now, it's not!"

"Do you really believe that, though?" Ducky asked, knowingly. "Do you really feel safe, Timothy? Do you think that you're safe, that it's all right to remember?"

Tim looked away.

"There's no shame in that, but until you can convince yourself that it's safe to let the memories free, I think you will struggle to bring back who you are. I don't know what it will take. I do understand that it's frustrating and discouraging, particularly when you're stuck with such a negative impression of your life."

"You're implying that it's _not_ negative," Tim said.

Ducky smiled. "Yes, I am."

Tim smiled back. Then, he sighed.

"I have to go back there, don't I."

Ducky didn't answer.

"To NCIS," Tim said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "What I said isn't enough. They need to know more."

"Yes, but not necessarily right this moment."

"But today."

"Not necessarily."

Tim shook his head. "No...Ducky. No, I'm not stupid. Even if I can't remember it all, I know that they can't wait for me to remember in my own time. If these people are still out there..." Tim swallowed around the sudden tightness in his throat at the thought of them. "They're still wanting to come after NCIS. If there's more about it in my head, stuck somewhere in that mess of my brain...then, you need to know what it is. Sooner, not later."

"That could be true."

"It is true," Tim said, but he hated the fact. "I know it's true. I just don't want to have to...feel all that again. Isn't there any way to keep that from happening?"

"I wish I knew, Timothy. I don't. There is a possibility that your initial flashbacks were worse than you could expect for the rest. There are so many factors that I hesitate to encourage or warn."

Tim sighed and tried not to let himself start shaking again.

"I hate feeling those things. I really hate it."

"I know."

Tim looked at Ducky.

"If I get through those memories, would the rest of who I am come out?"

"It's possible."

"So...basically, you have no idea," Tim said, feeling a helpless anger at his situation.

"Ideas, I have in plenty. Certainty or even basic knowledge...I fear I lack them in this case."

"Why aren't you getting mad at me or frustrated with how I'm acting?"

"I see no reason to do so. Do you?"

"Yes. I should man up and..."

"Timothy, just by coming back here at all, you have shown more courage than many."

"Even when all I want to do is give up on this and try to start a new life far away from here?"

"Yes. Especially then."

"Why?"

"Because you are overcoming that desire and doing something more."

Tim didn't feel very courageous, but another thought came to his mind.

"Do I have family?"

"Yes. Your parents and your sister have been told. It will take time for them to get here."

Tim sensed that Ducky was prevaricating, although he didn't know why.

 _Probably more bad news._

If that was the case, Tim decided he didn't want to know it. Bad family news was worse than bad news in general.

"Ducky...take me back to NCIS."

"Now? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Seems like there's not much worth seeing here."

"There is, Timothy. There is a _lot_ worth seeing in this place, because it's your home. You have lived here for a number years."

Tim got to his feet.

"Then, _why_ doesn't it seem to matter?" he asked, almost shouting. "This is my bedroom. This is my bed. This is my table, my chair, my TV. It's all just _stuff_! This isn't me! Why does it matter?" Suddenly, Tim felt like crying, although he couldn't have explained why. He took a couple of quick breaths and turned away from Ducky. "Why doesn't it mean anything to me?"

There was a long silence. Then, he felt Ducky put a hand on his shoulder.

"This is not _you_ , Timothy. It is where you lived your life. This place is important for its role as your home. It's not important for the things, just for it being your home. Don't be afraid that these things aren't holding meaning. The possession that _is_ important for itself, you remembered."

"What's that?"

"Your typewriter. That means something to you, and you remembered right away."

Tim nodded.

"I just...I thought I'd remember everything when I came here."

"I wish you had."

Tim turned around.

"Take me back to NCIS, Ducky," he said.

"Very well...but to the hospital, first. I want you to get a complete checkup."

"Okay."

Tim followed Ducky out of his apartment and felt a little sad that it had held so little for him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Kelly sat down on the hotel room bed with a loud exhalation. Then, she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling.

 _If I had ever thought about the problems inherent in getting into dating again, the possibility of dating someone with amnesia would never have crossed my mind._

This really wasn't what she had worried about.

She pulled out her phone and called home without sitting up.

" _Kelly. You made it."_

"Hi, Mom. Yeah."

" _What happened?"_

"He took one step into the building where he worked and had...the worst flashback I've seen. He was screaming and writhing on the floor, begging for mercy...and... and he still doesn't remember everything. He went through all that, and he has to go through more. We went to his apartment after."

" _What was it like?"_

Kelly smiled. "Lots of computer parts. And he has a typewriter."

" _Really?"_

"A manual one. Apparently, Tim is published author. He wrote a book called _Deep Six_ under a pen name."

" _That's something I never would have guessed about him."_

"I didn't, either."

" _Where are you now? He must not be right there."_

"I'm at a hotel. I think he needs some time just with his life, not with me there."

" _And you wanted to get away, too."_

"A little, yeah. Mom, this...I came because he asked me to, but this is a whole different world."

" _Yeah, I'm sure it is. It's good to get into different worlds sometimes...just keep on your feet and you'll be all right."_

"I guess."

" _I know. Your father says to be careful, but he'll always say that. Jeff said you should get him a souvenir, and Paul asked how Tim was doing."_

"No surprises with any of them."

" _Nope. I love you, Kelly. We're all concerned about Tim, but don't forget that you don't have to pretend to feel something you don't. That won't help anyone."_

"I hear you, Mom."

" _Good. Keep us updated."_

"I will. Bye."

Kelly hung up and stared at the ceiling for a few more minutes. She'd have to figure out how long to wait before rejoining Tim. She didn't want him to feel like she'd abandoned him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"All right, Agent McGee. That'll be it."

Tim nodded and rolled down his sleeve. He didn't do much beyond sigh. Ducky could see his weariness and his resignation to feeling yet more remembered pain.

"What's your diagnosis?" Ducky asked when Tim said nothing.

The doctor looked at Tim and then, he shifted his focus to Ducky who was the one in charge.

"Fatigue to start. He needs time to rest. If there's a genuine physical cause for it, that will have to wait until we get the tests back."

"Any sign of deficiencies?"

"Fatigue could indicate many types of deficiencies. Actually, I'm surprised to see it, but Agent McGee does have some indication of protein deficiency."

"Lack of protein?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't have said so if I hadn't been told that there were likely problems with nutrition. Obviously, he doesn't have the typical sign of the swollen abdomen. I'm sure his depravation wasn't long enough for that, but his liver is slightly enlarged, and that is also one of the symptoms."

"He would have been mostly without food for probably six months or more, and was being fed quite well, would you say so, Timothy?"

Tim nodded mutely.

"For about two months."

"So it was resolving itself. There could be some residual deficiencies that are manifesting in his need to eat whatever he can. Or it could simply be that it's a slight compulsion, an overcompensation for that time of starvation. It won't be a problem if it calms down over time."

"How long for the test results?"

"I would say that we should have them all back by next week. I'll give... _you_ a call?"

Ducky nodded.

The doctor lowered his voice. "Has he had a psych evaluation?"

"No. Not as yet. We know he is in need of therapy. He's only been back here for a few hours."

"He does seem to have some symptoms of depression."

"Unsurprising, given his experiences. Thank you."

"My pleasure. Any questions, please call."

"I will." Ducky looked at Tim. "Timothy, are you ready?"

Tim nodded again and hopped off the bench.

"Thanks, doc," Tim said softly.

"You're welcome. Good luck."

"I'm going to need it."

Tim walked out and Ducky followed after him.

"Timothy, are you sure that you want to face this today?"

Tim laughed at him.

"I don't _want_ to. I won't _ever_ want to. I just know I need to."

Ducky nodded. He could see that Tim's perception of what his life here was like was not improving at all. He decided to throw caution to the winds and try to _give_ Tim a positive experience. He didn't care if it was touching something in his past. All he wanted was to have Tim enjoy something today.

"Before we go back to NCIS, Timothy..."

"I don't want to put it off...Ducky."

That constant hesitation. Ducky understood it as well as was possible, but it _was_ a little hard to realize that this man he'd known for more than a decade was so uncertain about something so simple.

"I understand. This won't take long. Where would you like to go?"

"I don't know," Tim said, his brow furrowing.

"Just sit and think about it for a few minutes. It doesn't matter if it's past, present or future. Just think and the first place...in this area, of course...that you'd like to go, we'll go there and then head to NCIS."

Tim looked at him for a long moment. Then, he closed his eyes and thought for a few seconds.

"Anywhere?"

"In the Metro area, yes."

A deep breath, and then, Tim opened his eyes.

"Crispus Attucks Park. U Street NW."

"All right. Why there, if I may ask?"

Tim didn't reply. So Ducky steered the car toward the park. He had never been there himself, and he didn't know how Tim knew about it, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that it was something he _wanted_. Ducky parked the car out on the street since there was no parking available in the alleyway.

Tim was quiet as he got out of the car and walked toward the small park. Almost no one was around. He walked to a bench and sat down. Then, he closed his eyes again.

For whatever reason, this place seemed to matter to Tim and so Ducky said nothing. He let Tim sit quietly, enjoy the silence, if silence he wanted.

For about fifteen minutes, Tim sat on the bench, unmoving. He didn't speak. He didn't open his eyes. He just sat there. Then, suddenly, he opened his eyes and looked at Ducky.

"I found this place by accident," he said softly, slowly. He was hesitant to speak about it, possibly out of fear of not really knowing. "I was walking around, trying to get to know the city. I found this place and it was so...quiet and peaceful. I never wanted to leave. It was like a...a...Zen garden in the middle of DC." He gave a rare smile. "Then, some kids got home and started shouting in their houses, but...for a while...it was just me and no one else in the world."

Ducky smiled encouragingly but kept himself from speaking and interrupting this rather gentle memory that Tim seemed to be retrieving. It was a relief that he _had_ finally remembered something that seemed to be positive.

"I was so unsure...and all I wanted was... I almost had it, but I was afraid of losing it. I wanted to find something that...would tell me I was...where I should be."

"And this is what you found?" Ducky asked, keeping his voice low and unintrusive.

Tim nodded.

"Something about it. No matter what else happened...this place was right." Then, Tim sighed. "Because NCIS is what I always wanted. Isn't it."

"I can't speak to that in particular, Timothy, but it is something you always seemed to value. If it was what you _always_ wanted, you didn't tell me specifically."

"Why wouldn't I?" Tim asked. "If we're actually friends, like you say, why wouldn't I tell you that kind of thing?"

"It could be as simple as the fact that it never came up. Timothy, you've never been one to share all the details of your life if they weren't asked for. It's just not who you are."

Suddenly, Tim stood up and looked down at him.

"But doing my job is," he said. He took a deep breath. "No matter what else is me, that is. I know it is, and so...we should get back to NCIS."

Ducky stood up as well.

"Are you sure that you're ready for what that might entail?"

"No," Tim said with a slight smile. "But it's not going to go away. Is it."

"Likely not."

"Then, I'll go. I'll go and let them ask their questions...see if it helps me remember anything else."

"Would you like to stop and pick up Ms. Hoopes?"

Tim shook his head. "I don't want her to have to deal with me like this any more than she has to. She doesn't want to be here, but she came for me. Having her there won't change anything except that she'll have to see it. If I have another flashback, I won't know that she's there, anyway."

"Are you sure? She's been more than willing to help where she can."

"I know, and I appreciate it, but she's seen me so low... I don't know if I want her to have to see me every time I fall apart."

"It's your choice," Ducky said, although he ached for how much Tim was still going through.

"That's my choice, then," Tim said.

"All right, lad. Let's go."

They walked back to Ducky's car and then drove to the Yard. Tim took a deep, shaky breath as soon as they were on the Yard itself.

Ducky held back from asking if Tim was all right. Clearly, he wasn't. He hoped, for Tim's sake, that he didn't have the same intense experience he had before.

Ducky parked and then waited. Tim didn't move for a little while. Ducky didn't rush him.

"Ducky...have you ever been afraid like this?"

"Like this? I doubt it. I have had moments of paralyzing fear, but I would say that none of us experience fear in the same way."

"How do you get through it?"

Ducky smiled. "One step at a time, I'm afraid."

For almost the first time, Tim smiled at him in his old way.

"I was afraid of that."

Then, one more breath and Tim got out of the car. He walked toward the building. Ducky thought he might try to stall like he had the first time, but Tim didn't even pause as he walked inside. In fact, he walked in his normal stride, not the hesitating, reluctant one he'd used before. Actually, Tim's whole bearing reminded Ducky of someone else. He couldn't think who, though.

Henry certainly looked surprised, given how Tim had entered the building earlier that day and how he had left it, but Tim barely looked at him.

"Go on in, Agent McGee."

Tim nodded and kept walking to the elevator. Ducky hurried behind him because Tim wasn't slowing down one bit. He kept going. Ducky got on just in time because Tim sent the elevator up.

"Timothy?"

No response.

"Timothy."

Still nothing. Tim strode off the elevator as soon as the doors opened. He paused for a moment, clearly unsure of where to go, but then, he kept going. Ducky looked down and saw Tony looking up with more than a little surprise. Ducky just shrugged and hurried along.

Tim went to Vance's office and knocked on the door.

"Agent McGee?" Pamela asked from her usual spot at the desk.

Still no response from Tim.

The door to Vance's office opened, revealing Gibbs.

"Tim."

"You have things you need to ask me," Tim said.

There was a slight tremor in his voice, but nothing more. His face was nearly devoid of expression.

"Yes, we do."

"And you have to ask because I can't remember and I don't think I'll be able to unless someone can get my mind in the right place. So you ask me what you need to ask me. Whatever it is. If I can remember it, I'll try to tell you. I don't know if it will work, but I know it has to be done."

Gibbs looked at Ducky. Ducky nodded reluctantly.

"Agent McGee, are you sure you're ready?" Vance asked. "I was told that you might need time."

"There's no time long enough to get me over what happened...even the little bits that I can easily remember at this point...and something inside me says that we don't have a lot of time, anyway, but I can't tell you why unless you ask the right questions. So, please. Ask me."

"Agent Gibbs, are you able to do that?" Vance asked.

"Yeah. I can do that."

"Whatever space you'd like to use."

"Conference room all right for you, McGee?"

Tim nodded.

"Okay. Let's go."

Tim nodded again and followed Gibbs out of the room.

"Dr. Mallard, could I speak to you for a moment?" Vance asked.

"Of course, Director."

Ducky didn't want to leave Tim to deal with this alone, but he couldn't say no, not right now.

Vance waited until the door closed.

"Yes, Director?"

"Is this a good idea?"

"I don't know. I really don't. It was Timothy's suggestion. He said he had to come back here and do his job. I don't know what it was that convinced him because he is dreading it. Even now."

"I could tell. I don't want to force this on him, but if he hadn't come back on his own..."

"I know that, Director."

"So what now?"

"Now, we see what is going to happen this time. He made it into the building without flashbacks. I don't if that will continue. Torture is such a dehumanizing experience for the victim, and it is extremely difficult to deal with it in the beginning. One never fully heals from that kind of experience, and recovery is difficult in the best of circumstances. I admit that I'm afraid for him."

Vance nodded.

"Then, you should be there to help as you can. Whatever you can do."

"It may be very little."

Vance smiled. "It's more than nothing."

Ducky nodded.

He left the office and headed for the conference room. Tony looked up again as he walked by, but he didn't say anything. Ducky knew that he wanted to help, but he had no idea how to do it. It was a different tangle and one that would have to wait, unfortunately. He walked to the door and found that it was locked.

Confused, he knocked.

The door opened, and Ducky could see Tim leaning against the conference table, shaking.

"Jethro?" Ducky whispered.

"It didn't take long," Gibbs said.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Tim was trying to breathe normally. He heard Gibbs talking to Ducky as he sat at the table. He had been fine. No problem...or at least, no _more_ problems, but then...

 _Tell us what we want to know!_

He winced again and tried not to start crying. He tried to remind himself that he wasn't really going through it again, that it wasn't really happening.

The problem was that it wasn't working. His mind insisted on reacting to it, on believing that he was still in their control.

He had made it halfway across the balcony...until he had looked down and had seen Tony down at his desk. It had sent him reeling into another horrible memory. It hadn't been the spectacular meltdown of before, but he had fallen against Gibbs who had helped him into the conference room.

 _How can I ever come back here if I feel like this every time I step into the building?_

He felt someone sit down beside him.

"Timothy? Can you hear me?"

"I wish I couldn't," Tim whispered. "I wish I wasn't here. I wish I could just give all this up."

"I'm so sorry, Timothy."

Tim didn't raise his head. He knew Ducky meant what he was saying. It just didn't mean much.

"I hate this. I hate being here. I hate feeling this way." All the calm he'd found in that beautiful little park had been sapped by the seemingly unending torture. The memory had been so simple and yet so solid when it had come. A couple of hours he had spent sitting there after moving to DC, after being transferred there.

...by Gibbs.

And he could remember how excited and nervous he'd been. He could remember how much he had wanted that chance. He could remember all those emotions when he had finally got what he had wanted.

 _For most of my life._

That was why he couldn't walk away. That was why he couldn't give up. No matter how much he wanted to leave, to say that this life wasn't worth the cost, worth the pain, he could remember that this had been his main goal in life and he couldn't pass up the chance when he had it.

"I just want to," he whispered.

"Want to what, Timothy?"

Tim shook his head, not wanting to explain all the chaotic thoughts in his head. He did appreciate that both Gibbs and Ducky were trying to help him.

It was just that they couldn't.

 _They can't reach into my brain and just pull all this crap out. They can't stop me from feeling it, from remembering it._

There was a gentle hand on his back, not demanding, just encouraging.

Finally, after an unknown amount of time, he took a deep breath and lifted his head. He didn't look at either of them. He stared at the table and breathed deeply for a few seconds. Then, one more deep breath and he looked up. There was Gibbs.

He was so familiar...and yet, a stranger at the same time.

Tim hated these partially-remembered moments. Why couldn't he have all of it or none of it?

He pushed that complaint aside.

"Ask me, Agent Gibbs," he said. "Ask me the questions that you need to."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Tim tensed as he waited for Gibbs to ask him questions, questions that would only make him feel worse.

"You said that you heard them talking about their plans before, correct?"

Tim closed his eyes as those memories came back to him again. He started shaking, but he nodded.

"Yes."

"Timothy, keep your eyes open, if you can. Try to keep yourself in the present."

"I can't," he whispered. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. It's difficult, I know, but you can."

Tim forced his eyes open and looked at Gibbs.

"Yes, I heard them."

"You said that they were talking about taking down federal law enforcement."

"Y-Yes."

Tim tried to keep his eyes open, but he kept hearing them coming into the room again, and he knew what was coming next. He knew what he was going to feel. He knew that...

"Breathe, Timothy. Just breathe."

"I don't...I don't know what...you want. I don't...can't tell you... I..."

They kept asking him questions that he couldn't answer. He couldn't do it.

"Tim!"

It wasn't a soft voice. It was loud. It was a shout, and it seemed to echo inside his head and someone was shaking him. He got his eyes open, although his vision was blurred with tears.

"Tim, can you hear me?"

"You left me," he whispered.

"No, I didn't. Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever hear them talk about anything else? Any other part of their plan?"

Tim was trying not to remember _and_ trying to remember at the same time. He was struggling with the feeling that he had to forget everything and yet needed to remember it all. It was a contradiction that he couldn't manage. He couldn't get through it. It was tearing him to pieces.

...until suddenly, he broke.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _He felt as though there was nothing in his life except pain. There was no time. There was no day, no night. Nothing. Just pain. He lay there, not trying to get away any longer. What was the point? All he had was pain, anyway. Why go from one pain to another? There was no reason. Even when the pain wasn't active. It was still passively there. It was still something he felt, something he experienced. It just wasn't actively killing him. He lay there until he heard voices. They were right outside his door._

"Timothy, please..."

" _It'll be almost four years we've been working on this. When are we going to do something instead of plan?"_

" _The time is getting closer."_

" _He's not getting us any closer than we were before."_

" _But time is getting closer with or without him. His help would only make it more certain. Besides, his pain is their pain. More twists of the knife before the final attack. They deserve worse than they're getting."_

" _How soon?"_

"Jethro, this is..."

"Wait, Ducky. Just wait."

" _This is about the citizens rising up against their taskmasters. What other day could it be?"_

" _No one calls it that anymore."_

" _It doesn't matter. The holiday still applies. Besides, how long has it been since the government been about the people?"_

" _And him?"_

" _Remind him what he deserves. He'll be the first victim before we start."_

 _The door opened, and he started to weep._

" _Please...just kill me."_

" _Death is too good for you. Answer my questions and it'll be fast."_

" _I don't...know..."_

" _Then, maybe you need a reminder."_

"Timothy! Come out of it! Timothy!"

Tim felt his jaw aching from how tightly he was clenching it.

He suddenly became aware of more than just himself. He was aware that he was on the floor. He was aware of people around him. He was aware that he ached.

And he was aware that he remembered what he had just remembered.

He opened his eyes.

He was aware that he was breathing heavily and noisily through his clenched teeth. He tried to unclench his jaw and felt it pop as he moved it.

"Timothy, can you hear us, now?"

Tim nodded and stared up at the ceiling.

"Working for...almost four years," he whispered.

"Just wait, Timothy."

Tim shook his head. He didn't want to wait and let the pain build up again. Better to say it while he could.

"Planning...and one was..getting imp-p-patient. Wanted to...to...to know when."

Gibbs was there.

"And?"

"Day for...citizens...but not that anymore. Called...something else...but it didn't matter. Still meant the same thing."

"Citizenship Day. That's in September."

"Constitution Day."

Gradually, Tim felt his body relaxing, or least feeling less tension than it had before.

"Wanted them to kill me. Stop the pain," he mumbled.

Then, there were arms supporting him and lifting him up from the floor into an upright position. He looked around and then up at Ducky.

"Why is it like this?" he asked.

"Because with this kind of experience, it's almost impossible not to have flashbacks when first recounting them. It's terrible for you, but I don't know if this first time we can hope to avoid it."

"That sucks," Tim said.

"Yeah, it does," Gibbs said.

Tim looked at him, still feeling that dichotomy of knowing and not knowing.

"September is still a couple of months from now," Ducky said.

"Can't depend on them keeping the same schedule now that a lot of them have been arrested and Tim has been freed. They don't know that he has amnesia. They don't know that telling us what he heard is difficult. They'll have to assume that we know more than we actually do," Gibbs said.

Tim felt like a wrung-out sponge. He sagged against Ducky.

"I can't do this again."

"You won't," Ducky said firmly. "Not today. If I can help it, not tomorrow, either."

Tim saw Gibbs nod in agreement and he felt relieved and yet ashamed by it. Still, he couldn't muster the energy required to pretend he could manage more right now.

"Timothy, for now, where would you like to stay? We can make arrangements for your apartment, or else you could stay with one of us. Because of the risks, we can't allow you to stay on your own for now."

Tim shrugged. That seemed utterly unimportant.

"Do you want to stay in your place?"

Tim thought about it, but right now, it was as much a source of sadness as anything else because of how little everything meant to him. He didn't need more of that.

"No."

"Then, would you like to stay with me or with Jethro?"

It took Tim a second to remember that Jethro was Gibbs' first name. There was a tug in his brain that told him he wouldn't have necessarily had any kind of preference. So he just shrugged again.

"I don't care. Whatever."

"All right. We'll figure something out. Would you like to get off the floor?"

Tim's mind said _not really_ , but he nodded.

Gibbs and Ducky lifted him and helped him to a more comfortable chair.

"Timothy, I'm going to go and get you some water. Just relax."

Tim nodded but didn't bother replying. Gibbs left with him.

After he was alone, Tim closed his eyes tightly and started to cry.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby hesitantly came up from her lab. She knew that Tim had come back to the building and she'd been trying to build up her courage to come and see Tim. She was afraid. No matter what Gibbs had said to try and make her feel better, she was still afraid of how Tim would react to her. When Gibbs had not remembered them, it had broken her heart to know that he didn't really know who she was. She and Tim had so much history and she had tried so hard to find him, without success. She wasn't sure which she was more afraid of: Tim resenting her or Tim looking at her blankly with no recognition at all.

"Abby, Tim is up in the conference room again," Ellie said, her voice almost gentle. "You can go up there."

Abby looked at her and then at Tony who said nothing.

"Are you sure it's okay?" she asked.

"Gibbs and Ducky are in there. If you wait until they come out, you'll know."

"Okay. Tony?"

Tony looked at her, but he still said nothing. Abby didn't know why, but it made her more nervous than she had been before.

Still, she screwed up her courage and climbed the stairs to the conference room. As she reached the top, the door opened. Both Ducky and Gibbs came out, looking very concerned.

"He's forcing himself to do this, Jethro, and I can't imagine that it's going to be of much use. Surely, these people will have changed their plans and their timing at this point. What purpose can it serve to make Timothy suffer like this?"

"He's the one insisting, Ducky."

"Yes, I realize that, but..." Ducky looked over. "Abigail, is there something you need?"

"I was...hoping to see Tim. If it's okay," Abby said, tentatively.

"Oh. Knock first. Give him the chance to say no. Otherwise..." Ducky shrugged.

"Go, Abbs," Gibbs said. "Just be careful, all right?"

Abby nodded and walked to the door. She hesitated and then, she knocked.

"Tim?" she asked.

There was a long pause. Just long enough for her to wonder.

"Come in."

She looked back and Gibbs. He raised an eyebrow and nodded. She smiled and took a breath. Then, she opened the door and stepped into the conference room.

What she saw made her want to leave again. Tim was sitting on a couch, looking pale, tired and pained. His eyes were red. It was clear that he'd been crying. This wasn't the Tim she knew and she was afraid he wouldn't know her, either.

"Hi, Tim," she said.

"I guess you're Abby?" he said.

"You remember?" she asked, eagerly.

"Not really, but everyone told me to expect you to show up...and just like everyone else...you don't seem like a complete stranger."

Abby held back a wince.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I give you a hug?"

He furrowed his brow at her.

"Why?"

"Because you look like you need one...and I need one, too."

There was another long pause, and Abby just hoped that Tim would say yes.

"Are we dating or something?" he asked.

Abby laughed a little. "No. We did, once...years ago."

"We did?"

"Yeah."

"But we're not now?"

"No. I just like to hug people. You don't remember that?"

Tim sighed. "Please, don't ask me that question. I'm having enough trouble with what I remember and what I don't."

"I'm sorry," Abby said. "I don't want to bother you. Really. I don't. I feel so bad about all this, anyway, and I don't want you to be mad at me."

Tim raised an eyebrow.

"Why would I be mad at you?" he asked.

"We were looking for you, and we were looking and looking, and we thought we might have found you and then... Then, they left us this video of you...of what they were doing to you." Abby felt tears in her eyes as she tried to explain enough to get rid of that empty expression on Tim's face. "I tried so hard to find something, Tim. I really did. I went through every single second of the video, even though I hated hearing it and seeing it...and I know it was worse for you. I know it was a _lot_ worse for you, but I really wanted to find something and I just couldn't. When you came back, I was afraid that you'd be mad at me for not finding you. Months and months of all that...and I still couldn't find you, and I really wanted to. We just had no way of knowing that...that they'd take you to Montana of all places. We thought you must be closer to DC. We were afraid you were dead...and we were afraid that you weren't. And...and..."

"Abby?" Tim interrupted, his voice very quiet.

"Yeah?"

He smiled a little. It still wasn't _Tim_ , but it was an expression.

"I'll take that hug, okay?"

Abby smiled tearfully at him and hurried over. She wrapped her arms around him and held him, trying not to squeeze too tightly for fear of making him uncomfortable. He hugged her back, although she could tell that it wasn't as sincere as her hug was.

Still, she decided to go with it.

After a minute or two, she felt Tim shift.

"Abby?"

"Yeah?"

"How long do these hugs generally last?"

Abby laughed a little and let Tim go.

"As long as I want them to, usually."

Tim smiled again.

"You're sure we're not dating, right?"

"Positive. We decided that we were better as friends. There were...issues with us dating."

"It was a mutual decision?"

"Yeah. It was."

"Okay."

"You really..." Abby stopped herself. She didn't want to make Tim feel bad again.

"No, I don't...not really...but everyone in this place seems a little familiar. I just don't know, and I hate that I don't because people keep telling me there are good things about being here. I'm just not really seeing it. All I'm seeing is the...the misery of it."

"There's more than that, Tim. I promise...but I don't know what it will take."

"I don't, either," Tim said with a sigh. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

Abby saw how tired Tim was, how hard it was going to be for him, how hard it had already been.

"Well, I won't stay too long. I know you have a lot to deal with."

"Okay."

Abby was disappointed that he hadn't wanted her to stay, but she didn't want to force him to.

"I'm not mad at you, Abby," Tim said softly.

"Thanks, Tim. Are you mad at Tony?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Because I think he's afraid of seeing you, too."

"Oh. I don't know."

"Okay. I won't push, Tim. Do you want to be alone?"

"Yes. I do."

"Okay."

Abby got up and walked out of the conference room. Ducky and Gibbs were still standing, talking together.

"He doesn't really remember me," she said.

"That's going to take time," Ducky said. "He's still finding his way here."

"I know. I'd hoped he'd remember...but he let me give him a hug."

"That's good."

"Is Tony staying away from him on purpose?" she asked in a low voice.

"Probably," Gibbs said.

That was all.

"Okay."

Abby wanted to say something else, ask for encouragement, but she could see that there was more going on. So she went back down to her lab. Tim didn't hate her for not finding him. That was something.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

"We _have_ to back off, just for a while, Jethro. Timothy actually remembered something positive before we came here. I think that, the longer he's here, the more he'll remember...but if we continually force him to deal with his captivity, he's not going to stay. He'll run to save himself. Like you did."

Gibbs said nothing to that.

"Where do you want him to stay tonight?" he asked, instead.

"He's getting more comfortable with me, but I don't know if we should leave it at that, and he has started remembering you."

"Yeah. As the person who left him behind."

Ducky sighed and nodded.

"It's a problem, but if he had a real preference, he would have said so. There is nothing holding him back from being honest."

Gibbs thought about it.

"What are we going to do, Ducky? We can't control what he remembers. We can't make this easy. I wish we could." He paused and then added something more. "I hate seeing him going through this. It's terrible."

"Yes. It is. As I told Director Vance, we have to balance between what is needed _from_ him with what is needed _for_ him. He has given what he can today. More than he can. Now, we need to let him recover."

"All right."

"Let's give him some time. I'll get him water. You can report to Vance."

Gibbs nodded and headed for Vance's office, knowing that they had learned only about how things _had_ been planned, not how they might be going now. In reality, what Tim told them could be completely useless. One thing that had come out of all this was how patient these people had been. They hadn't rushed in any part of their plan. If NCIS was really a practice target to get them ready for bigger things, then, that meant that they were willing to sacrifice to reach their ultimate goal.

That mean that, unless they had caught the entire group (unlikely), they wouldn't give up just because of a set back.

 _We won't really be safe until we find them all._

If Tim knew that subconsciously, it was no wonder he had shown such determination to remember more today. He knew that there was still a lot of danger.

Even without details, that was something for Vance to consider.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky walked back to the conference room, knowing that things had not improved for Tim, no matter how much he wished they had.

He knocked on the door. There was no response. Ducky hesitated and then opened the door.

Tim was sitting at the table again, his head resting on the table, and he was shaking.

"Timothy?"

Tim jumped a little but didn't sit up. Ducky walked over and sat beside him.

Tim was crying.

"I'm sorry, Timothy," he said softly. "I'm very sorry."

Tim didn't answer, didn't even react when Ducky gently laid his hand on Tim's back. Ducky didn't know what exactly Tim was crying about, but that didn't matter. Crying was a way of releasing and experiencing strong emotion. Tim had gone through enough in the last few months to warrant more than a few tears.

Then, finally, it hit him. When Tim had walked into NCIS, Ducky had been reminded of someone else, but he hadn't known who.

It was Gibbs. A determination to see things through, to do what needed to be done no matter the cost. For Gibbs, though, it had been rewarded with what he had seen as betrayal and he had abandoned this life, temporarily, to escape it. Tim had come with equal determination to remember what he knew, to help where he could, and so far, not only had the reward been negligible, Tim couldn't even have the satisfaction of knowing that he'd really helped. Ducky didn't know if Tim would have the same reaction that Gibbs had. Tim was a different person and his experiences had been very different from Gibbs'. Still, the pain was probably similar. Perhaps it would be beneficial for Tim to spend some time with the one person who could truly hope to understand his situation, even in part.

"Timothy, if you have no objection, I thought it might be a good idea for you to stay with Jethro, tonight."

Still no response. Ducky set the bottle of water on the table and stood.

"When you're ready to leave, just come out and let us know," he said.

Ducky walked to the door, looked back one more time, and then, he left the room and left Tim to his solitude if that was what he wanted.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly wasn't sure how long she should give Tim before she joined him again, but it had been hours and she was starting to feel antsy. She wasn't doing anything at all and if she wasn't going to be doing anything in her hotel room, she might as well be doing nothing with Tim...if he didn't mind her being there again.

She decided to call Ducky and ask him if he could tell her where Tim was now. She had no idea what to expect with all this.

She pulled out the card that Ducky had given her and dialed the number.

" _Dr. Mallard."_

"Hello, Dr. Mallard. It's...Kelly...Hoopes."

" _Oh, Ms. Hoopes. How are you?"_

"Is Tim all right?"

" _No. He's not."_

"What happened?" Kelly asked, feeling worried.

" _He insisted on coming back to NCIS to try and remember more of what he heard from his captors."_

"Why?"

" _Because he has remembered how much he loved his job, and how important it is to him. He decided he had to do more than he had already."_

"Was it...as bad as before?"

" _Physically, no. Psychologically...I couldn't say. He is worn out by it, and he will not be going through anything more like this today. Hopefully, not tomorrow, either. We're just deciding where he'll be staying for now."_

"Oh. Why?"

" _Because he is a witness, and we have no guarantee that those who are left won't try to recapture him."_

"But he doesn't remember."

" _We can't assume t_ _hey know that."_

"Right. Dr. Mallard...should I come back to NCIS?"

She heard a sigh.

" _I wish I could tell you what would be the best thing to do, Ms. Hoopes, but I don't know. Given that you have interacted with him in this state much more than the rest of us, perhaps, you will know better what might be useful."_

"Me?" Kelly had a moment of panic. "I...I don't have any experience with this stuff. I don't..."

" _It's not about experience with amnesia, Ms. Hoopes. It's about experience with Timothy himself."_

"Well...Tim sometimes would try to...hide what he was feeling from us. He didn't want to let us see how lost he felt. He always felt bad when he would have his nightmares that would wake us up. He was also embarrassed...but he usually wanted someone to help him through it. ...at least, that's what we chose to believe. We never left him alone after one of his flashbacks. Dad usually would make him talk about it. ...but we weren't trying to get information. We were just trying to help him."

" _Of course. If you wouldn't mind, how would you feel about coming back to NCIS to give Timothy someone he genuinely knows to lean on?"_

"Of course. That's why I'm here."

" _Good. I'll get someone to come and get you. Then, you won't have the problem of getting admitted to the Navy Yard."_

"Okay."

" _Thank you, Ms. Hoopes. I understand your worries and I'm grateful that you came along."_

Kelly laughed a little. "Are you? I figured most of you resented someone from back there coming and invading Tim's life."

" _Perhaps there is a little bit of that, but I am definitely glad that you're here. For Timothy's sake."_

Kelly swallowed.

"Just have them call up when they get here, Dr. Mallard," she said.

" _Of course."_

Kelly hung up and sat down again. Tim was fighting for something he wasn't even sure he wanted and it seemed to be doing nothing for him but causing him pain. She hated seeing how much Tim was struggling, but she didn't want to leave him if she could help.

...if only her boyfriend had been willing to fight for her when the chips were down.

 _Don't start thinking about that, again, Kelly. It's long over. Get over it. He's not worth your time._

Kelly took a deep breath and waited for someone to come and get her.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony hadn't moved away from his desk since Tim had come back. He'd looked up toward the conference room, but he'd not gone up there.

He couldn't forget being told that Tim felt that they had abandoned them. After all the time he'd spent worrying, hoping and fearing that Tim was already dead, to know that Tim had felt that no one cared what he had gone through was about the worst thing to hear.

He'd found that he couldn't face Tim while he thought that about them.

"Anthony?"

Tony looked up.

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind picking up Ms. Hoopes from her hotel and bringing her back here?"

"What for?"

"To give Timothy the chance to lean on someone he knows."

Tony grimaced.

Ducky pulled a chair over and sat down beside him.

"Anthony, this is necessary. Ms. Hoopes is not trying to take Timothy away from us. On the contrary, she is trying to help him get his life back, and that matters."

"I didn't say it didn't."

Ducky's smile was far too understanding.

"Ducky...this is... He thinks we abandoned him."

"Perhaps not to the same degree as he did that first day, but yes, there is still the feeling."

"I can't... We didn't!"

"No, we didn't."

"But I feel as guilty as if we did," he said, his voice low.

"Anthony, what happened here is not our fault. Could we have done more? Maybe. Maybe not. There's no way to know. Did we give up? Absolutely not. Never, and we wouldn't have unless we had seen his body and known he was dead. Does Timothy know this? Not right now, but he will. No matter what comes of all this, he will know that, eventually."

"And until then?"

"Until then, we must do what we can to help him. And right now, that means bringing his friend here to give him the support he needs. It will take time, but it won't last forever."

Tony stood up.

"I'll go and get her, Ducky."

"Thank you."

"Yeah. Sure."

Tony walked to his car. He had mixed feelings about Kelly. She had said the same kinds of things that Tim had apparently thought. She definitely had a personal stake in this, and Tony was afraid that, no matter her intentions, she'd take Tim back with her and they'd never see him again. Ziva had already left for her own reasons. Now, Tim, too?

He shook his head and started the drive to the hotel Ducky had told him. When he got there, he was about to go to the desk, but he saw Kelly waiting for him.

"Hi, Agent DiNozzo."

"Hello, Ms. Hoopes. I'm just parked right outside."

"Okay."

She followed him and got into the car.

For the first few minutes of the drive back to NCIS, it was only awkward silence. Kelly stared out the window, looking away from him, and Tony just didn't know what to say to her, given the situation.

Finally, he couldn't take the silence anymore.

"You ever been to DC before?" he asked.

The question sounded trite and clunky, even to Tony.

"Yes. Once."

"As a tourist?"

"Yeah," Kelly said, without elaboration.

"Did you like it?"

"The monuments are nice...but I... I had come here with someone who... Well, he let me down in a big way. I don't like thinking about it."

"Oh. Sorry."

She looked away from the window.

"My mom would tell me that I should apologize for all the things I said about you guys, but I can't...not and be honest about it, anyway."

"We didn't leave him," Tony said.

"He thinks you did."

"But we didn't," Tony said, feeling a little angry. "You have no idea what it was like for us here. We never gave up, but we were trying to do it right."

"Well, you didn't," Kelly shot back. "You may have tried, but you failed."

"I know that. I know that much better than you do. You've never seen the video they sent us."

"I've seen his flashbacks."

"The video is worse. At least with the flashbacks, you know it's not happening now. It's a memory, a bad one, but still only a memory. We saw...real time...exactly what was happening to him." Tony shook his head. "Knowing that we didn't keep him from that... I know we failed."

Silence fell again for another few minutes. Then, Kelly sighed.

"I'm...almost sorry, Agent DiNozzo. Dr. Mallard knows who I am, but I guess you don't."

"No."

"I...I don't like police. I don't trust the police to do the right thing."

"Why not?"

"Because I had them tell me over and over again that they were sorry but there was nothing they could do...when my boyfriend locked me out of our apartment, when he drained our shared bank account, when people started following me home, when I got death threats... They were always sorry, and there was always nothing they could do to help me."

Tony glanced over at her. She wasn't looking at him. She was staring straight ahead, but he could see the anger and hurt in her eyes.

"If I'd had just one person helping me out, I could have survived it all. I would have stuck it out, kept fighting...but I couldn't. I was alone. Alone, surrounded by people, begging for help but not getting it. I gave up and ran back to where there _were_ people to help, people who would listen, people who cared. It made me feel that my dad was right. There's nothing worth seeing away from home. When I saw what Tim went through, when he told me about how he felt realizing that no one was looking for him, no one had missed him...I saw myself in him, just a little. We needed help, but no one was there to give it. ...and now, I don't know what to do, Agent DiNozzo. I don't know this world. I don't know this life that he has. I feel like an unnatural graft and I can tell that you don't want me here. I don't know if I want to be here, either. I just want to help Tim any way I can...help him _not_ feel the way he felt before."

Tony looked at the road for a few seconds and then back at Kelly. For some reason, he felt better about her presence. Funny how a simple explanation could do that. He swallowed and tried to smile.

"Well, if it helps at all, on behalf of all law enforcement, I'm sorry you had such a bad experience."

For a second, Tony worried that he had been too flippant about something that was clearly quite painful, but then, Kelly laughed a little.

"That shouldn't make any difference, but you know what... It kind of does."

"Glad I could help."

Kelly looked at him.

"Maybe you could try that with Tim, too."

"Try what?"

"Just saying that you're sorry. Even if it wasn't your fault, Tim isn't really the kind of guy to hold grudges when there's no reason to. He's better than I am about that. Maybe it would help if he heard you say it."

"Yeah...maybe."

The last thing Tony wanted to do right now was talk to Tim when he had no real memory of him.

...but maybe she was right.

They didn't speak again until they got to NCIS.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Tim couldn't figure out what he was supposed to be doing now. He'd heard Ducky, but he would never be ready to confront this life that he supposedly had here. As it was, he was ready to do nothing. Ever again.

The door opened.

"I'm not ready," he whispered.

He didn't know what he wasn't ready for, but he knew he wasn't ready for it, no matter what it was.

There were gentle arms around him.

"Hi, Tim."

Tim sat up.

"Kelly," he said.

Then, he hugged her back, tightly.

"How did you get here?"

"Agent DiNozzo gave me a ride."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because Dr. Mallard thought you might need me."

Tim took a deep breath.

"I did."

Someone he knew, someone he didn't have to worry about whether or not he _should_ know. He just knew her. No complications that way.

"Tim, why did you come back here today?"

"I had to. I didn't want to, but I just knew that I had to. ...to be me."

"Well, if that's what it means to be you, you're going to take a break from that, okay?"

Tim felt the tears again, and he held them back. It was one thing to cry when he was alone, but he hated that the tears were still coming. It was something he didn't want to do. He took a breath that was more shaky than he wanted it to be and let it out.

"Okay."

"Good. Dr. Mallard told me that they've figured out a place for you to stay tonight."

"Oh. Where?"

"With Agent Gibbs. Is that all right?"

Tim thought about it and then, he shrugged.

"Sure. Whatever."

Kelly pulled back and looked at him.

"Are you ready to go?"

"I guess."

"I never thought this is what your coming back here would be like."

"I didn't, either," Tim said. "I thought it would be...just...everything would come back."

"Yeah. I'm sorry it hasn't."

"Me, too."

Kelly cupped her hand over Tim's cheek.

"Let's go."

"Okay."

They got up together and walked to the door. Tim stopped. Every step out there had led to varying degrees of horrible memories.

"You can do it, Tim," Kelly said.

Tim took another breath and opened the door. Ducky and Gibbs were out there waiting for him.

"Kelly said that...I'd be staying with you, Agent Gibbs?" Tim asked. He stumbled over the name a little. Like Ducky, using the formal address didn't feel right, but neither did anything else.

"If that's all right, Timothy," Ducky said.

"It's fine. I don't care."

"Good. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Let's go."

Kelly put her arm around Tim's shoulders. He was grateful for her presence. It was so nice to have just one person that didn't cause tension.

Tim looked down and saw Tony and Ellie looking up at him. He looked away before he could fall into another painful memory.

"Can we go?"

"Yes."

Tim and Kelly followed Gibbs out of NCIS, and Tim breathed a sigh of relief as he made it out of the building without another flashback. When they got to the car, Gibbs paused.

"Do you want to go back to your hotel or to my place?" he asked Kelly.

Tim looked at Kelly. He didn't know what the right answer was in this case; so he didn't say a word. Kelly looked at him for a long moment. Then, she smiled.

"How about I bring breakfast tomorrow morning?" she asked.

"Okay," Tim said softly.

"Then, let me know your address, Agent Gibbs, and I'll come in the morning."

Gibbs just nodded. The ride over to the hotel was silent, but Tim sat beside Kelly in the back seat and wondered why staying with Gibbs left him feeling basically nothing. When they got to her hotel, Kelly squeezed Tim's hand.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay."

She smiled at him and got out. Tim decided that he should move to the front seat. It made no sense to sit in the back like Gibbs was his chauffeur. He got into the front, and the ride over to Gibbs' house was full of heavy silence.

When they pulled up in front of an unassuming home, Tim got out and looked at it.

"This is it?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Should I know a lot about it?"

"No. You haven't been here very much."

"Okay."

Tim followed Gibbs to the front door. When he stepped inside, he looked around and thought he might remember something about this place...which was weird because there was almost nothing in the place. It seemed completely empty.

"You live here? Are you sure?"

Gibbs laughed a little.

"Yeah. Don't need to decorate to live in a place."

"I guess not."

Still, it was weird to see a space that was intentionally so...devoid of character.

"You can put your stuff in the spare room. Back here."

Tim followed Gibbs to a room. It was as empty as the rest of the house. A bed and a dresser...and pretty much nothing else. He set his bag down on the bed and then looked at Gibbs.

"Isn't there anything in this house?"

Gibbs smiled.

"Yeah, there is. Just not up here."

"In the basement," Tim said. He was certain of it, even though he couldn't quite say why.

"Yeah. You want to see?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Come on."

Tim followed Gibbs to an unassuming door and down the steps.

...to the basement.

"A boat."

"Yep."

"You build boats. Down here."

"Yeah."

"And no one knows how you get them out because you do. Somehow."

Gibbs smiled again.

"Yep."

Tim looked at the boat.

"It doesn't look like you've done very much on it."

"I haven't."

"Why not?"

"Hard to concentrate on it when other things were more important."

Tim looked away from the boat and at Gibbs. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Tony would come over here almost every night to talk about what else we could try to do to find you. He needed to talk about it here because he couldn't talk about it in the open while we didn't know how closely we were being watched. We all hoped that there would be something that would us tell where you were."

Tim looked back at the boat.

"You're saying that you cared."

"Yeah."

"Then, why didn't you find me?"

"I don't know. I wish we could have."

"Why don't I remember you?"

"You do. You already said you did."

"But not everything. You're not completely familiar. You're both a stranger and someone I know."

Gibbs sat down on a stool.

"You don't want to remember," he said.

"Yes, I do! Why do you think I came back at all?"

"No, you don't want to remember. You need to, and you know you do, but you can't think of anything you _want_ to know. You'd started to get something you want back in Montana. It was safe for you. No demands."

Tim sighed and looked toward the stairs. He was half-tempted to leave to get away from this conversation...but at the same time, he couldn't leave. There was something keeping him here.

"I know how that feels, Tim."

"How?"

"Because I ran away when I needed to get away from the demands of this life. I only barely remembered the people here. I forced myself to remember what I had to remember. Then...I decided I was done. I decided to run away to Mexico. I thought I'd stay there forever."

"Why didn't you?" Tim asked.

"Because it wasn't enough. It wasn't my life. ...and people needed me here. I wasn't needed down there. Being needed matters." Gibbs paused. "What did you have back there?"

Tim was silent for a long moment as he thought about the question.

"Refuge...from something I didn't even know. At first, that's all it was. A safe place. I didn't care about anything else. Then...they cared about me. No matter who I was. They knew that they could be harboring a criminal or someone who would put them in danger...but they still cared about me."

"And Kelly Hoopes?"

Tim flushed.

"I don't know. Not right now. She's not sure, either. I mean...we met in a bad situation. She's not had the best luck with relationships. ...and right now... I'm really not much better. We're not ready to say anything more."

"You don't have to say anything to me."

"Then, why do I feel like I do?"

"Because you always feel like you have to justify yourself...even when you don't."

Tim turned around. Gibbs was still sitting there on the stool. There were so many conflicting feelings that Tim had about Gibbs. Respect, coupled with intimidation, coupled with irritation and worry and determination...and how in the world did he resolve all these things into whatever would describe them all accurately?

" _You ever hesitate because you second guess yourself again, I'll take your badge!"_

" _Why didn't you come to me?"_

" _Anticipate, McGee!"_

" _I let you down."_

"Tim! You hear me?"

Tim jumped. Gibbs was standing, now. He backed away a couple of steps and ran into the boat. He turned around quickly to make sure he hadn't damaged the thing.

"Tim."

"I...remember things...like pieces of a puzzle and what I remember is so clear...but it's surrounded by nothing. I don't even know where the pieces fit."

"What pieces?"

Tim thought about trying to describe them, but he got frustrated.

"What's the point? The reason I'm here is because you need to know what's stuck in my head about the people who took me. That's what matters."

He started to walk to the stairs.

"No, Tim."

"No what?"

"That's not what matters."

Tim turned back for only a second before he felt the annoying tightening in his throat again. He turned to the stairs again.

"Then, what does?"

"That you can see that there's more to your life than the last eight months."

"I can't."

"I know. It's hard to see around the bad things."

"What do _you_ know about that?" Tim asked, ignoring the fact that he knew something of why Gibbs could say that.

"Tim...when my wife and daughter died, I wanted to kill myself. That's not an exaggeration. I would have. When I came out of my coma, I had to feel all that again as if it had just happened...and I had to get around it to the rest of my life. I couldn't at first. That's why I left. It's hard...but it's worth trying."

Tim was suddenly irrationally angry. He knew it was irrational, but he didn't care. There was no reason to be angry at what Gibbs was saying. It didn't matter. He wanted to be mad at someone, and Gibbs was the only one there.

"What do _you_ know about what's worth it for me?" Tim asked, angrily. "All I'm remembering is you yelling at me, you lecturing me, people resenting me for the book I wrote."

"Is that really all you're remembering?"

Tim was now angry that Gibbs was calling him out on the things he wasn't saying.

"It's not enough! It's not enough to be worth it! ...but I can't walk away! So I stay here and it hurts, but there's nowhere else to go! I don't have a Mexico to run to."

"What about Montana?"

"I don't belong there! I know that I don't. I don't have anywhere to go, but I don't feel like I fit here, either. I'm still just...cast away. I can't...land anywhere. Even my own home is meaningless." Tim swore and tried not to cry again. Not in front of Gibbs.

The anger leeched away, leaving the feeling of being no one behind. He walked toward the stairs again.

"I understand. I didn't belong in Mexico, either."

Tim stopped at the stairs. He wanted to keep going, but he didn't at the same time. He didn't turn around, but he couldn't leave.

"You keep searching for where you belong, but you can't find it, even when you _have_ found it. You know that you should feel something other than you're feeling, but you're not. You have the weight of what you hate remembering and the weight of what you _don't_ remember. You have a duty you know you have to fulfill, but you don't feel any reward for doing it. You have pain, and nothing else."

Tim swallowed his tears and said nothing.

"What I went through isn't the same as what you're going through, but you can have your life back, Tim. It won't be exactly the same. It can't, not after what happened, but it can get better. I know that this is hard for you. I'll even admit that I hate seeing you going through it, but there are limits to what we can do to help. We're doing what we can, and I know it's not enough. I know nothing is enough right now. I can't force you to stick with it, but I hope you do."

"What else do I have?" Tim asked in a whisper to mask the tears.

"I think you have more than you're seeing right now."

"I'm going to bed," Tim said.

"Go ahead."

Tim finally climbed the stairs and went into the spare room. The one good thing about this place was that there was nothing to trigger a memory. It was too bland. He changed his clothes and got into bed. There was no denying that he was genuinely tired after everything that had happened today.

He lay down and slept.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Gibbs sighed. He had known that Tim would have a lot of trouble with all this, but it was still hard to see it. Hopefully, things would get better. He had to remind himself that Tim had only been back for a day and this had been a day full to bursting with painful recollections.

He went back to his boat. He hadn't worked on it for a while, but it was time to start up again. As he worked on smoothing some planks, he thought about what would be best. Tim had asked about his family once, and they'd managed to put him off of it for the moment, but that wouldn't last. It had been a couple of days since they'd talked. Maybe it was time for an update.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number he wished he didn't have memorized.

" _Agent Gibbs."_

Gibbs smiled. They knew his number, too.

"Mrs. McGee."

" _How is he?"_

"Not very good. Your husband?"

" _The surgery went well. They got rid of the clots, but Sam is...really worn out."_

"I think Tim could use some family around."

Naomi sighed.

" _I'm sure... Sam is asleep right now, but I'll talk to him about it as soon as he wakes up. Sarah could come, but I don't want her overwhelming Tim, and she's worried about seeing him like this. She's afraid he won't remember her."_

"Yeah."

" _Has he remembered anything?"_

"Mostly about the last few months."

" _You mean when...when they had him."_

"Yeah."

" _Oh."_ There was a long pause and when she spoke again, her voice was rough. _"Agent Gibbs...thank you for all you've been doing to help. I know Sam wanted to be there himself. If it hadn't been for...all this."_

"I understand. We didn't tell Tim about it. We didn't want to have him thinking _everything_ in his life was going wrong."

A shaky laugh.

" _We'll figure something out, Agent Gibbs. As soon as we can."_

"All right."

Gibbs said good-bye and hung up. That was what he'd been afraid of. While they couldn't make any promises about when they'd come and while they were trying to avoid mentioning Sam's paralysis and subsequent health problems, it was hard to talk about his family. They needed to at some point, but it would be nice to do it with family there or definitely on the way there.

But he had no doubt that Naomi would do what she could.

He went back to smoothing planks...and thinking. His mind went back to his own experience with amnesia. He couldn't think of too many moments that had been worse than having to hear about the death of his family over again for the first time. No one should have to go through that. He had, and now, Tim was going through something that was as bad, maybe even worse, in its own way. He was remembering the bad with very little of the good. No wonder he wanted to leave.

Gibbs himself had wanted to run away from everything that was going on here...and he had. That Tim was aware that the place he could run to wasn't a real escape was admirable, but Gibbs didn't want him to feel like he _had_ to stay, like the only reason to be in DC was because he had nowhere else to go.

What else could they do to help Tim get his memory back? Ducky seemed at a loss, and for Ducky to be at a loss was a bad sign. Bits and pieces weren't enough to keep Tim from giving up. He needed more. He _deserved_ more.

He spent a couple of hours in the basement, working on his planks and thinking. Then, he decided to call it a night. He headed up the stairs and heard a sound.

A thud and then whimpers.

Gibbs ran to the spare room and saw Tim kneeling on the floor, shaking violently. He was nearly hyperventilating.

"Tim," he said, softly, hoping not to startle him.

Tim didn't answer. He just kept breathing, but loudly, as if he was maybe two seconds away from screaming.

"Help me," Tim whispered. "Don't leave me there..."

He wasn't looking up. He probably didn't know Gibbs was there, and Gibbs hesitated for a moment before kneeling on the floor by Tim.

"I'm not leaving you there," he said.

Tim jumped and looked up at him. His eyes were open, but he didn't seem to be seeing fully yet.

"Don't leave me...alone...not..." He closed his eyes and hunched his shoulders. "Want to die... Kill me...don't... not again..."

"You're not with them, Tim," Gibbs said. "They don't have you. They can't hurt you. Wake up."

Gibbs hesitated once more and then put his arm around Tim's shoulders. He could feel how much Tim was shaking, and he wasn't sure Tim would welcome close contact, especially when he didn't quite remember the person doing it.

After a few minutes, Tim started to calm down. He wasn't as tense, and he didn't try to get away from Gibbs, either.

"Are you feeling any better?" Gibbs asked.

"No."

Gibbs smiled a little.

"What do you want to do, now?"

"Die."

"Not an option."

"Then, I don't know."

"How about you get off the floor?"

"I don't know if I can."

"How about I help you?"

"Okay."

Gibbs helped Tim get to his feet. Then, he helped him over to the bed. Tim sat on the bed and put his hands over his face, still shaking.

"A memory or a dream?" Gibbs asked.

"Dream...with a little bit of memory in it. I can't get away from it, but I can't get _to_ it, either. It sucks."

"Yeah. It does."

More shaky breaths.

"What did you dream?"

Tim didn't answer. Gibbs waited to see if he wanted to talk about it. He'd had more than his share of bad nights in Mexico. Nights that he had needed Mike to help him get through it all. He hadn't ever talked about it when he came back, but Mike had been there and had refused to walk away from an awkward situation. It was what Gibbs had needed, and he was banking on Tim needing the same thing. An awkward situation, terrible memories, pain, and a need to have someone _be_ there. Tim didn't need solitude, and he had asked _not_ to be left alone.

So Gibbs was sitting and waiting.

"It's the same kind of...dream I've...I've been having," Tim said, speaking haltingly. He didn't look at Gibbs, but he spoke. "Darkness. I'm alone. Then, there's pain, but I can't even see who's doing it. All I have is the pain in the darkness. Alone. I wanted them to kill me. I didn't care about getting away. I wanted to die."

"You aren't going to."

"I know."

"And you don't have to be alone."

"I feel like I am."

"I know, but you're not."

Tim let his hands fall to his lap. He looked at Gibbs, still afraid, still shaking.

"I don't want to be...alone."

"Okay."

Gibbs helped Tim stand up again and he led him out of the bedroom and into the living room. Clearly, Tim wasn't going to be wanting to sleep for a while.

Tim sat down on the couch. He didn't seem to want to look at Gibbs, and Gibbs had no intention of pressing Tim to do that.

"I can't escape it," Tim whispered. "Not even...by sleeping. It's just always there."

"It won't be forever."

"I can't see that."

"I know...but you aren't alone. I'll be here, tonight."

Tim just nodded. Gibbs sat on the couch, prepared to stay there as long as Tim wanted him there.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Naomi sat beside Sam's hospital bed. He hadn't opened his eyes yet. She had never felt so torn about where to be. NCIS people had called them almost at the same time as Sam had gone downhill. Sarah had freaked out the way she did when she got overwhelmed.

Now, Sam was going to be all right, but she couldn't leave before he woke up. She had to talk to him, first. She was willing him to wake up, willing him to open his eyes and say something clever and annoying.

"Sam, I need to hear your voice," she whispered. "Please, wake up. I don't care that it's two in the morning. I need you to wake up."

Unfortunately, Sam didn't hear her, or else he was just being his usual stubborn self and healing at his own pace. Naomi gave in and leaned back in her chair. She drowsed for a while.

"'Why does the eye see a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination when awake?' Leonardo da Vinci."

Naomi was awake in a second. She sat up and looked at Sam. He opened his eyes and looked at her wearily.

"I made it again," he said.

"Yes, you did. Let's not go through this again, okay?"

"I'm all right with that. I'll tell my legs that as soon as I can sit up."

"Sam, Tim is back in DC."

"What? And you didn't go?"

"I couldn't. Not while I didn't know what was happening with you."

Sam reached out his hand. Naomi grabbed it and squeezed it tightly.

"I will be fine. We can't have our son without his family."

"All he's remembering is what happened when he was missing, Agent Gibbs said. He's not remembering us or them."

"All the more reason for you to go."

"Sam..."

"T. S. Eliot. 'There's no vocabulary  
For love within a family, love that's lived in  
But not looked at, love within the light of which  
All else is seen, the love within which  
All other love finds speech. This love is silent.'"

Naomi felt tears come to her eyes. Sam reached out and brushed them away.

"I know that love, Naomi. I would go with you if I could, but if Tim needs to be reminded of it, then, he needs to be reminded. I don't. Go. Help our son know who he is. Help him see more than pain. ...and when I can, I'll come, too. Sarah can stay with me and fret over me in your place."

Naomi laughed and then kissed Sam.

"Now, since I know that you like driving in the dark, you can go if you want. I'm still tired and I'll sleep."

"I love you, Sam."

"I love you, too. Now, get out of here and let me sleep."

Naomi smiled and took Sam at his word. If she left now, she could get to DC not too late in the morning.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim didn't fall asleep until around three or four. When he woke up, it was bright outside. He sat up and looked around.

 _I fell asleep on the couch._

There was no one there, but then, he heard footsteps upstairs. It must be Gibbs. Tim got to his feet and started for the bathroom. Then, there was thumping on the stairs. Tim stopped and waited.

Gibbs came down and looked at him silently for a few seconds. Tim raised an eyebrow.

"I called Kelly Hoopes and told her to wait to bring breakfast until you woke up."

"What time is it?"

"Almost nine."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's fine."

"Okay."

"If you're ready, I can call her back."

"Sure."

"Okay."

Gibbs went into the kitchen, and Tim looked after him for a moment and then went on his way to the bathroom. He considered showering, but he couldn't bring himself to try it. Instead, he splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth. He could take a bath, but that would take too long and Tim didn't feel like getting in there at all. Hopefully, he wouldn't smell too bad.

He looked at himself in the mirror. There wasn't the same feeling of being lost as when he'd been in Montana, but he still didn't feel like he knew who Tim McGee was.

"Who are you?" he asked his reflection. "Why can't you just remember who you are?"

He took a deep breath and turned away from the stranger in the mirror. He walked back out to the living room.

"She's on her way over."

Tim nodded and sat down on the couch again.

"Did you get any more sleep?" he asked.

Gibbs smiled. "Yeah. Plenty."

"Oh."

Tim was saved from having to think of something to say by Gibbs' phone ringing. He looked at the display, looked at Tim with a confusing expression and then turned away.

"Gibbs."

Tim sat on the couch listening in. He had a feeling that this call was about him.

"Oh. You want me to ask?"

Another pause.

Gibbs turned around.

"Tim, your mom is in DC."

Tim blinked at him. He hadn't given his family a second thought since Ducky had hedged about talking about them. He had basically written them off as something he didn't want to deal with.

"Only now?" he asked. "Why?"

"Your dad is in the hospital. He had an emergency."

"Oh." Tim tried to feel something about that, but he couldn't muster up an emotion. Right now, this was just words. Not something he knew.

"Do you want to see her?"

"Uh...I... I guess so."

"She's giving you the choice, but she did come down to see you."

"What if I don't remember her?"

"You won't know if you don't try."

Tim's stomach twisted, but he nodded.

"She'll come over here, if you don't mind."

"Okay."

Gibbs talked for a few seconds on the phone and then, he walked over and sat beside Tim on the couch.

"Nothing is perfect, Tim, but your family loves you."

"I don't feel anything about them," Tim whispered.

"You will."

"What if I don't?"

"You will."

Gibbs held Tim's gaze for just long enough and then, he got up and went to the kitchen. Tim sat on the couch, unsure of what to do. He sat there until Kelly came with breakfast, i.e. donuts and coffee. Tim had a moment of missing Marilyn's wonderful meals, but he didn't complain. Kelly seemed to sense that he was worried about something. She didn't push him to talk, but she did push him to eat.

Tim did so, eating silently and not looking around at anything or anyone. When he finished eating, he went back to the living room and sat on the couch again. Kelly came in and sat beside him.

"What's wrong, Tim?"

"My mom is coming. I don't know who she is. I don't know if I will when she gets here. What if I don't remember her?"

"I think you will."

"Why?"

"Because you've remembered important things all along the way. She's important."

Tim looked at Kelly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for making this so miserable for you."

"You're not. I'll let you know if it's too much for me. Is your mom coming now?"

"I think so."

"Then, I'll stay out of the way while you talk to her. You can decide if you want to call me back in."

"Okay."

Tim sat where he was for a few more minutes and then, there was a knock on the door. He couldn't move. He just sat where he was, afraid that he wouldn't remember his mother, afraid that he would and it would be disappointing, afraid that seeing her would, somehow, trigger another flashback that he didn't want to deal with.

Gibbs walked to the door and looked back at Tim. Tim nodded, but he wanted to run and hide.

Gibbs opened the door.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Tim stayed where he was. Gibbs was blocking his view of whoever was at the door. They spoke in low voices while Tim waited. Then, he stood aside. There was a woman standing there, older, but not really old. There was gray in her hair, and she has some lines on her face, but she didn't seem really old. She smiled at him and walked over. He dropped his eyes to his lap.

"Can I sit down, Tim?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here right when you got back. Your father really wanted to be here, too, and he'll come as soon as they release him from the hospital."

Tim stared at his lap, afraid of looking in her eyes and still not knowing who she was.

"He called me just before I came over, though. He wanted me to tell you something. Will you listen?"

"Yeah."

She reached out and lifted his head up so he was forced to look at her. She smiled.

"Winston Churchill. 'A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.'"

For a moment, Tim was just confused, but then, there was something that stirred in his mind. Something important. She didn't push. She just waited. Tim didn't look away.

"Dad is...in a wheelchair," Tim said slowly. "He's paralyzed from the waist down. From a car accident when I was driving. When I was a teenager. He was going to commit suicide, but I saw him." The memory wasn't complete, but it was coming, and he wasn't being rushed. This wasn't particularly happy, but it wasn't as tragic as he might have thought it would be if he had just been told this. "He likes to quote people...especially Winston Churchill."

She smiled and nodded.

"You were going to be a lawyer, but you decided that it wasn't for you."

"I was too good for the law."

Tim smiled back.

"I have a younger sister."

"Yes."

"She's a lot younger. ...Sarah."

"She's with your father right now."

There was still that strange sense of dislocation, as if he wasn't really a part of all this, but it wasn't as pronounced as it had been. Still, it made him feel strange and he looked away from her for a moment. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked back.

"Tim, if you can't remember everything right now, that is fine. We can't and won't try to force you, but I'm glad that you're remembering us a little bit. Is it enough?"

"Enough for what?" Tim asked.

"For you to accept a hug from your mother."

Tim hesitated and then, he nodded. He leaned forward and hugged her and felt how familiar it was. For no reason that he could have articulated, he started to cry again. He felt like a wimp, but he cried anyway. Then, he was being rocked gently.

"I'm so glad you're back and safe, Tim. We were afraid you were gone forever."

Tim couldn't say anything, but while he was still unsure about all this, he found that he had no desire to pull away from his mother. There was something he felt that he didn't want to lose again. He didn't care what it was. It was something other than the almost-constant anxiety. That made it wonderful.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs smiled a little as Tim hugged Naomi and didn't pull away from her. He had been worried, especially when Tim had seemed so afraid of seeing someone from his family. Then, when the first memory he'd been able to pull out was about Sam being paralyzed... All in all, this had gone much better than he had thought it would. He wasn't sure how long to give them alone, but he was willing to make himself scarce while Tim made some tentative, and hopefully _positive_ inroads into getting himself back.

He wished that this was all Tim had to worry about, but there was still the possibility of the people who had captured him trying to attack NCIS headquarters anyway. Gibbs didn't think that Tim had much more to add to what he'd told them. The plans would likely change due to the capture of a number of people in the group, but they didn't know how many there actually were. The one thing Tim might be able to do, at this point, was describe the people involved...if he had seen any who hadn't already been arrested.

Ducky was right. Tim needed a full day away from the worries of whatever could come next. He needed that escape. If Gibbs could have, he would have just recommended sending Tim up to see his dad, but while they weren't sure what was going to happen, it was safer to keep him here. They knew where he was, and they could protect him, preferably without Tim realizing that they felt he _needed_ that protection.

"It looks like he remembered her enough," Kelly said softly from behind him.

Gibbs turned around. Kelly had a difficult role in all this, mostly because no one seemed to know what her role really should be. Her only connection was to Tim himself, and it was due to his need to have someone he knew around. Actually, Gibbs was impressed at how well she was managing it all.

She smiled.

"Tim wouldn't really let people close if he didn't know them. He held us back. In fact, his first day with us, he fended Mom off with a lamp."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. Kelly nodded.

"He was afraid. He didn't know where he was. Mom said that he didn't even realize that he'd forgotten everything, at first. Dad asked him what his name was, and that was the real shock. Tim's worst days were when he thought too much about how little he knew."

Gibbs nodded. That made complete sense.

"What's the plan for today, Agent Gibbs?" she asked. "Dr. Mallard said that he didn't want Tim going back to NCIS if it was possible. Is it possible?"

"I think so."

"Good. I keep hoping that something will just trigger everything that he's forgotten. Why hasn't it happened? When he's surrounded by things he should know completely, why is it so...piecemeal?"

"I don't know. Ducky doesn't know, either, although he has some ideas about it."

"Dr. Mallard is really smart, it seems. I'd trust his guesses about as much as other people's facts."

Gibbs smiled.

"He thinks that Tim doesn't feel safe enough to let the memories come back. He seems to have _tried_ to forget to keep people safe. So..."

"...until he feels safe, he's not going to remember everything?"

"Maybe. He is remembering a few things already. Maybe it'll just take longer."

"How much longer?"

"Don't know. He remembered something just right now. You in a hurry?"

Kelly sighed a little.

"It's the wrong attitude, I know. I just... I don't feel like I can leave him like this...but I don't feel like I'm really doing anything here except standing back and letting Tim experience his own life." She looked past Gibbs and at Tim and Naomi. "I want Tim to be home, to _feel_ like he's home. ...but I want to go home, too. I just can't leave while he feels so lost. I saw him have a panic attack just because of not remembering who he was. ...but this world is... It's not mine." She looked back at Gibbs. "My world is in Montana. I guess if this experience is showing me anything, it's that I belong back there. Not here."

Gibbs raised a silent eyebrow and Kelly smiled self-consciously.

"Sorry. I don't usually dump my problems on near strangers."

"I can handle it."

"I figured." She sighed again and then, she smiled as Tim looked at her.

"Kelly?" he asked.

Kelly walked over and Gibbs watched as Tim hesitated and then tried to introduce his mother he was still remembering to the woman he'd known for all of two months. Ranking awkward introductions on a scale of one to ten, this was probably at least a nine if not higher. Thankfully, Naomi was up to the challenge and she gestured for Kelly to join them. Gibbs wondered what she was actually thinking, though. He had learned just how intense Naomi could be about her family and keeping it whole. She took the mama bear stereotype to a whole new level.

He was distracted by his phone ringing. He turned away from the group and answered.

"Gibbs."

" _Boss, Vance was looking for you."_

"Is it about Tim coming in again?"

" _I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. I said that I'd check to see if you were coming in."_

"Tim isn't."

" _Good."_

"You think he wants me there?"

" _Yeah. He's kind of prowling, and I'm saying that in a low voice because I'm afraid he'll show up out of nowhere like you do, only he doesn't really like me so..."_

Gibbs suppressed a sigh of his own. He knew Vance was trying to balance Tim's needs with the needs dictated by the case. It was just that he agreed with Ducky. Tim needed a day just to deal with his life, not to fight to bring out more agonizing details of his captivity. He'd have to go in, but there was no way he was leaving Tim alone without protection. Just in case.

"You come over here, then. I'll go in to NCIS and you'll be on guard duty."

" _Boss...I don't know if..."_

"This isn't a discussion, DiNozzo."

" _What about Bishop?"_

"You want to have Tim's safety depending on a probie who still doesn't like shooting a gun?"

" _No."_

"Then, get over here."

Gibbs hung up. He knew that Tony was having trouble dealing with Tim's blame, but he couldn't let that get in the way of what needed to be done. Besides, the more time he spent _with_ Tim, letting Tim reacquaint himself with who Tony was, the less likely it would be that Tim would continue to blame Tony for what happened.

As he waited for Tony to come, Gibbs went back to watching Tim with his mother and Kelly. While it was obvious that this Tim was still not really connected to his life, there were glimmers of him that came out, and if they could keep him safe and secure for a while, maybe he'd relax enough to let himself remember again. He didn't know if Ducky was right about why Tim's memories were still mostly locked away, but Tim did need that time, regardless.

As long as they could keep him safe.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony knew he was just putting off the inevitable by not wanting to talk to Tim, but he hated seeing the lack of recognition in Tim's eyes, and he hated that Tim thought they'd abandoned him.

Still, as he pulled up to Gibbs' house, he couldn't help but feel more worried. Tim had been avoiding even looking at him. He got out of the car and walked to the front door. Gibbs opened it before he could knock. Tony raised his eyebrow in a silent question.

"His mom came this morning," Gibbs said. "They're talking inside."

"Did he remember her?"

"He remembered something, probably not everything."

"Still?"

"Yeah. It's going to take some time."

"I figured. What do you want me to do?"

"Just be here. In case."

"Yeah."

"If it's possible you could talk to him."

Tony hitched his shoulder.

"Just a thought."

Gibbs headed to his car, and Tony stood on the step for a second and then, he took a deep breath and went inside.

Tim was sitting on the couch with Naomi and Kelly. He looked up when Tony came in and then, he looked away. Tony suppressed a wince.

"Hey, McGee," he said, trying to sound lighthearted. "Gibbs had to go and talk to the big boss. So I'm going to hang out here for a little while. Just ignore me."

Tim glanced at him briefly, nodded and then, looked away again. Tony was about to go into the kitchen, but Naomi got up and walked over to him.

"Agent DiNozzo," she said, quietly, "thank you so much for bringing my son back. I know it's not that simple; so you don't have to act like you did nothing. We can never repay what you all did for us."

Then, she hugged him tightly. She nodded and went back to Tim...who had been watching. As soon as Tony looked at him, though, Tim looked away again. So Tony went into the kitchen, ready to twiddle his thumbs for a few hours.

After an hour, Kelly left. Then, he heard Naomi talking, but it sounded like she was on the phone, not talking to Tim.

Then, Tony heard movement behind him. He turned around. Tim was standing there, looking almost anywhere but at him.

"Hi... Tony."

"Hey, Tim."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

There was awkward silence, and Tony wasn't sure he should break it. Tim still hadn't actually looked at him.

"Was there something you needed?" Tony asked, finally.

"Well..." Tim might as well be shouting out how little he wanted to be there.

"You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, Tim."

"It's not..."

Tim walked over and sat at the table. Then, he was silent again.

"What is it?"

"I'm...I'm afraid to look at you."

"Why?"

"Because I'm afraid that I'll have another flashback and I don't want to."

"You haven't felt that way about everyone else. Why am I so special?"

"I remember you leaving. I asked you for help and you left me there."

"Help with a report. If I had known they were going to...come after you, I would have..."

"Part of me knows that, but I don't remember enough of you to know for sure."

Tony grimaced.

"Tim... I can't tell you how many times I've wished that I'd stayed, but even on that night, you weren't mad at me. You were just tired and wanted to go home. We were all tired and wanted to go home. You just hadn't quite finished."

Tim still wasn't looking at him.

"All I remember is that you left me there alone."

"But that doesn't change what actually happened! Look, I feel terrible about it. I beat myself up about it for months, but I didn't do this to you! I didn't. I didn't want it to happen. I didn't want you to go through that. All I did was go home."

Tim stared at the table and traced the grooves with his finger.

"I don't know how to...see that, how to get through the awful stuff...and I'd do almost anything to not see it again."

"I wish I could make you not ever see it again, but I can't. I don't know how."

"I don't, either."

"Tim... I'm really sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't stay. I'm sorry that you got taken. I'm sorry that you went through Hell for so long. I'm sorry that you can't get away from it, now. If I could do something to stop it, I would."

There was a long silence. Then, Tim lifted his head and looked at Tony. His eyes were tearing up, but he was actually making eye contact.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Is there anything I _can_ do?"

Tim took a deep, shaky breath and then let it out slowly.

"I don't know. Don't let them...take me again. Ever."

"I won't," Tony said, and he knew it wasn't just words. He really meant it. If there was any way in the world that he could keep this from happening to Tim again, he would do it. No matter what it would take.

To his surprise, Tim raised an eyebrow for a moment...and almost looked like his old self.

"I can almost believe that you mean it," he said.

"I do mean it."

"Okay." Another slow deep breath. "I don't know what else is going to happen today. Dr. ...Ducky says that I get a day off."

"Sounds good to me. You deserve that."

"Thanks. I just don't know what to do with it."

Tony wasn't sure where the words came from. He had _intended_ to say that he didn't know, but he was sure Tim would think of something good. That wasn't what came out.

"Do you remember Ziva?"

"The name. It's familiar. More than Bishop was."

"She was on our team for eight years. She's...in Israel right now. She left her number...if you wanted to talk to her. You guys were really close when she was here. She wasn't sure how long she'd be there, but she said that she'd like to talk to you, if it would help you. ...and she left before all this happened...so she wouldn't have that... association."

"Oh."

"You don't _have_ to," Tony said quickly. "It's just an idea. If you want her number."

"We weren't dating, were we?"

Tony couldn't help it. The question was so surprising that he laughed.

"No! Not at all. You were just friends."

"Oh."

Tony furrowed his brow and then, an idea came into his mind.

"Are you and... and Kelly Hoopes... you know?"

"Not really."

"Not really?"

"I started to ask her out once...before everything melted down. She wasn't sure. I wasn't sure. I like her. She's a friend, but I had wondered if it could be more. I just didn't want to have that be another issue."

"Oh. No. No girlfriends unless you were _really_ keeping them a secret from everyone."

"Would I have–?"

"Maybe for a while, but not everyone and not for the amount of time you would have had to be doing it. Heck, you just told me that you were thinking of asking someone out and you barely remember me."

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"So...do you like her?"

"Yes."

"A lot?"

"Yes. ...but I don't know how much of it is because she saved my life."

"How?" Tony suddenly realized that he had no idea how Tim had got away or anything like that. He wasn't going to prod on that side of it, but how he had come to the attention of the Hoopes family should be safe enough...he hoped.

"I was tangled in tree branches in a canal. She was checking the canal for debris after a storm. She started to pull the junk out and I was there. Kelly said that she was shocked to see me, but she pulled me out of the canal as quickly as she could and her family took me in right away. When they found out I couldn't remember anything, they just let me stay there for as long as I wanted to. I could have been anyone. I could have been a criminal, and they still let me stay with them. They're really good people."

"Sounds like it, but really, Tim, I can't imagine anyone thinking that you were a criminal. You just aren't the type. You don't look it."

"It wasn't so easy for me to see it," Tim said. "I'd look in the mirror and not even recognize myself. It didn't seem like a reach to think that I could be a criminal. What normal person goes through what I did?"

Then, Tim took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, and Tony was afraid that Tim would be having another flashback. For a few seconds, all Tim did was breathe.

"Tim?"

Then, he opened his eyes, clenched his teeth for a second and let out a loud breath.

"I didn't think it could be normal," Tim whispered.

"You're not normal," Tony said. "You're way too smart to be normal."

Tim gave a shaky smile.

"I hate...every time I remember. It's like I'm back there again. Sometimes, I can remember that I'm not. Sometimes, I can't."

Tony wasn't sure what to say, if anything, to help Tim feel better. He was surprised that Tim was persisting in talking to him, and he wondered why. Still, he felt like he should be doing something more to help. He just didn't know what that was.

"I wish I could help," he said, finally.

Tim actually laughed.

"I wish you could, too."

Tony cast around for something, anything, that might help.

"Hey...do you want to watch a movie?"

"What?"

"That's what I do when I need to escape."

"I don't know if I want to...get lost in a fantasy world."

"Okay. But if you ever do want to..."

"You're the one to ask," Tim said, and his smile seemed a little more solid.

"That's right."

Tim got up and headed out of the kitchen. Then, he stopped.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you here?"

Tony thought about giving Tim the runaround, about hiding the fact that they thought he might still be in danger...but he knew that the old Tim wouldn't want coddling, and he didn't think this Tim would care for being lied to. Not when he was still on iffy ground with his old life as it was.

"Right now, we're being careful."

"You think they could still come after me?"

"We don't know. We don't know how many are left. We don't know who they are. We just know that we don't want to take any chances. ...and we won't let you disappear again, Tim. I promise."

Tim looked at him for a long moment, and Tony wondered what he was thinking. He couldn't tell.

"Okay," Tim said, after a few silent seconds.

Then, he left the kitchen.

Tony leaned back and sighed quietly. He hoped that had helped. He had to admit that he himself felt a bit better about things. Tim didn't seem mad at him anymore which was a relief.

It was just a matter of keeping everything clicking over while Tim figured himself out. Tony decided that Vance would have to step over his dead body to get Tim to remember more today. He could see that Tim was shaky still, but he could also see that the time away was helping. If it was helping, then, he was getting it. No matter what.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Two days."

" _Two days?! Are you insane? We can't just do it in two days!"_

"The longer we wait, the more time they have to stop us. We've been planning for years. It's time to implement the plan. We have to make a start, and NCIS is the first step. We can't ignore that."

" _He's been back for at least a full day. He's been at NCIS. He must have been talking."_

"How much does he really know?"

" _I don't know. That's the problem! We don't know how much he heard, how much they started talking around him. We don't know if he was able to put things together based on the questions they asked. He withstood months of torture and never broke once! This isn't a normal guy we had."_

"All the more reason to move fast before they have time to prepare. Get the message out to everyone. We move in two days. Your only job is to make sure that the charges go off in the right places. We want them moving out of the right exits. Towards us."

" _What about him?"_

"He dies. That was always the plan, and I see no reason for that to change. Even if we don't get anyone for certain, we get him."

There was a moment of silence.

"Are you listening?"

" _Yeah, I hear you. I'll send out the word."_

"And the charges?"

" _They've been in place for two months."_

"Check them if you can."

" _Right."_

There was a click, signaling the end of the conversation. They hadn't been able to get someone who could have access to the secure areas of the building. Vetting was too good. But they _had_ got someone who was in maintenance. Because he was still new, he had very little access to most of the building, but who would think about restricting access to the exits? He shook his head. Terrorists had the wrong approach. They wanted to make a big splash, a huge event that everyone could see. Real change wouldn't come that way. Real change would come with unmistakable messages. They didn't need to destroy the building to send the message. People were the key. Buildings were lifeless structures that could be rebuilt. People bled.

And they would bleed. They would bleed until the message was heard. One federal agency at a time. If a few were lost in the fight, that was fine. They could be replaced with others who saw the need to remove the detritus from the country.

Sometimes, the only language that could be understood was blood.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"No, Leon. I won't," Gibbs said.

"Look, I understand that..."

"No, you don't. If you did you'd never try to get Tim back here without at least a day to deal with things. Tim has given you more than you could have expected. It's unlikely that anything else he could tell you would help."

"Unlikely, but not for certain, Gibbs."

"I'm not letting you bring him back and force him into another flashback when I think it's going to be a useless exercise. I don't care what your reasons are. Tim is getting a single day to recover."

"You know that every day counts in something like this," Vance said, leaning across his desk. "I want to give McGee some time to recover, but..."

"Then, do it. Tell the people who are pressing for more that they can't have more right now. When Ducky took him for a checkup yesterday, the doctor was worried about depression. Depression, amnesia, possible deficiencies from being nearly starved to death... No matter what, he's going to need a lot of therapy from all this. Leon, you're not going to punish him for trying to help before he's ready."

Vance sighed.

"Give him a day. Tomorrow, we can see how he feels about things, but I don't want to even ask him today. If I ask, he'll think he has to do more than he can. We don't want to lose him again."

"You know they want more."

"They can't have it. Not yet. I doubt he can tell us more that will be of any use anyway."

"I question that myself. After what you told me, it seems as though his only interactions were with the people who are either dead or in custody. I'll see what I can do, but I can probably get you today. I may not be able to do more than that."

"Okay."

Gibbs got to his feet and left the office. Ellie was standing anxiously by the balcony.

"Gibbs, what's going to happen, now?" she asked, as soon as he appeared.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I mean... Tim is back now, but he's not really back. We're kind of going back and forth on this stuff. Are they going to hit us or not? Did they give up or not?"

"What do you think?"

"About what?"

"About them. You have what Tim told us. You have what we figured out. This is your area."

"Not exactly."

"Close enough. What do you think?"

Ellie shrugged and bounced on her heels a couple of times.

"I don't think they're giving up. They've put way too much time into this to give up. If there's even one of them left, at least of the leaders, this isn't over. They're going to try to implement their plan, but they're also smart enough to know that it can't be exactly what they'd planned before. If they really want to take out federal law enforcement, one agency at a time, then, they're determined to do that. They're going to want to get us. The problem is that we don't have any history of these people. We don't know _why_ they feel this way, and that affects what their approach would be."

"See what you can figure out from the people we _have_ identified."

"They're still not talking."

"So don't talk to them."

Ellie nodded. "Look at who they are, where they came from." She started for the stairs and then paused and looked back with a hopeful expression.

Gibbs suppressed a smile.

"There's a conference room that's empty."

Ellie did smile. "Thanks, Gibbs."

She went down to the bullpen to grab all the materials they had so far. He knew she liked being able to see everything spread out in front of her at once. Even if he couldn't let her do that all the time, it was worth it this time.

His gut was telling him that they were going to need whatever edge they could get.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Tim felt like he was just sitting around for most of the morning...which was what he was doing; so it made sense. Part of him kept insisting that he should be doing something more than he had. Another part of him didn't want to do anything at all. And a third part was just coasting, willing to do whatever was suggested so long as it didn't require effort or pain. That led him to take a nap, to sit quietly, to talk to his mother...and yet, it wasn't enough.

Finally, after lunch, he went to Tony and asked to talk to this Ziva that he had been friends with and worked with for years. It being a phone conversation, he couldn't say that he had any idea of what to expect. All he could say was that it was important enough to part of him that he talk to her that he was able to overcome his lethargy to do it.

He figured that Tony probably wanted to hear what Tim said, but Tim wanted to be alone for this. He locked himself in the spare room and sat down on the bed. He stared at the paper with the phone number for a few minutes without doing anything else. What would come of this? Could he really get any good out of talking to someone on the phone? Did he really want to deal with another stranger who could trigger unpleasant memories? He almost gave up before trying.

Then, he took a deep breath and dialed the number. It rang a few times.

" _Hello?"_

"Hi...uh...this is Ziva?"

" _Yes. Hello, Tim. Tony told me that you might call."_

Like with Ducky, her accent wasn't surprising even though no one had bothered to mention it to him before.

"I...I am calling."

There was a soft laugh. _"Do you remember me?"_

"Almost. There are things that I remember, and there are big holes."

" _And I am in a hole?"_

"Mostly."

" _Mostly?"_

"Yeah...because the name is...familiar, but I can't even picture what you look like. I'm sorry."

" _There is no need to apologize. I am glad that you are now safe. I received all the messages at once that Tony left for me, and so I only learned that you had disappeared when you had been found."_

"Oh. I'm... You've been gone."

" _Yes. For almost a year."_

"Why did you leave?"

There was a long pause. _"I am sorry that you have forgotten so much, Tim. You never asked me, never tried to find out. I think you understood what I needed to do, maybe more than I did. I regretted that I never said good-bye to you. You deserved better from me. We were good friends. You accepted me more quickly than anyone else did, and I should have given you more than I did."_

"Why didn't you, then?" Tim asked, finding that he felt only a little of the curiosity that he must have had before.

" _I was trying to find myself again. So many things happened last year. I lost who I was...only not because I forgot, but because I just did not...know myself anymore."_

"Do you now?"

" _I am getting better. It will take time."_

"Oh."

" _We do not have to talk if you do not wish to."_

"It's not that...I just don't know what to ask."

" _I do not know what to say, myself. ...but you let me in when few would do that. You said it was because you were not the probie anymore, but it was more than that. You were willing to accept a new person onto the team, into your life. It made me feel that there was hope for what I was doing."_

"Did I know that before?"

" _You may not. I do not think I ever said it out loud. It was more...understood between us."_

"Oh."

" _I do not know if you want to hear about me or about you, but there was a case when I first came to NCIS that I do not think you knew how much I needed your friendship."_

"What was it?"

" _A woman had gone missing. You were working on a phone in the lab and Abby still disliked me because I was not Kate. ...who had been killed by my half-brother."_

Tim thought, and yes, there was a part of him that recognized the name Kate as someone he knew...and missed.

" _I went in to help you. You did not need my help and I could not really give it because it was nothing I knew how to do. I stayed because I wanted to be with someone who was not resenting me. I think you found me more distracting than helpful, but you let me stay. I was always grateful for that."_

Tim listened to Ziva talk and, slowly, ever so slowly, there was a person taking shape in his mind, someone he did know.

"Are you coming back here?" he asked.

" _I do not know...but if I do, it will not be soon. It is too hard right now. Even for you, I cannot come."_

"Okay."

" _But, Tim...I know that you do not fully remember me, but will you allow me to give you a suggestion?"_

"I guess so."

" _The people you are meeting are your friends. They are worth knowing. Even if it is hard, it is worth the difficulty to know them again. Do not give them up."_

"Like you have?"

" _No. There are too many complexities for me to be easy there, now. It was only something like this that could have taken me away from DC. I would not have left them if I could have stayed. You can stay."_

"I don't know. Maybe I can't."

" _You can. You are so strong, Tim. People often missed your strength because it is not obvious, but you are one of the strongest men I have known. You can."_

Tim didn't feel like he was all that strong, but was kind of nice hearing that, anyway. Still, he had reached the limits of the conversation he could have with someone he was supposed to know, but whom he couldn't see. Ziva seemed to sense it.

" _I must leave, now. I am not sure when I will be able to speak to you again. I am glad that you were found. I am glad that you are getting better, and I hope that you will remember all that you have lost. Good luck, Tim."_

"You, too, Ziva."

" _Shalom."_

Then, she hung up. Tim looked at the phone, set it on the side table and then curled up on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to find an escape from the chaos in sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony was sitting in the living room. He knew that Tim had decided to talk to Ziva. He couldn't help wondering if it was going to do any good. Tim seemed almost more afraid of remembering than forgetting.

"Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony looked up.

"Mrs. McGee."

"Please, call me Naomi."

Naomi sat down beside him.

"Is Tim still in the room?" Tony asked.

"Yes. He didn't want an audience for his fumbling. I'm not surprised."

"Does he surprise you at all?"

Naomi took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes. There's no way to be prepared for your son staring at you and wondering if he should know who you are. It's terrible. It's frightening. ...but that wasn't why I came over to talk to you."

"Oh? You had a reason?"

"Yes," Naomi said with a smile.

"What was it?"

Naomi leaned over and hugged him tightly.

"I know I said this before, but it deserves to be said again. Thank you for bringing my son back."

Tony shrugged uncomfortably.

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did. Whether you believe it or not, you did. If Tim hadn't been willing to come back, nothing you could have done would have got him back. You were one of the representatives of who Tim was. Tim himself might not realize it, but you were part of what brought him back." Naomi's voice choked up a little. "I can't even fathom what he's gone through, but I am _so_ glad to know that he's back here, that he's with us again."

"I don't know if he'll stay."

"I don't, either, but this is a beginning, and we have to start somewhere. ...and while I know that it's not what any of you want for him, if he did decide to leave, at least we'd know where he was, and we'd know that he's safe. That's something we haven't had for months."

Tony tried to see it that way, but his mind was more on keeping Tim here than it was on accepting that he might want to be somewhere else.

"What about your husband?"

"He's doing better. He's going to try to get down here in the next day or two if he can convince the doctors to release him."

"How bad was it?"

"Very. It was a bad clot and we just can't know that they're there until they start moving...which is when they can kill him. That's the only reason he's been willing to stay in the hospital. He has no intention of dying before his time, and according to him, his time is a long way from now. So he needs to make sure that these serious problems get taken care of right."

Tony nodded.

"Hopefully, it will be good reunion. Tim needs happiness in his life. I hate that he has so much misery."

"Me, too."

The door to the spare room creaked open and Tim came out. Tony got up.

"How was she?" he asked.

"Okay," Tim said. "I almost..." Then, he sighed without finishing the oft-repeated description of his partial memories.

"Yeah. She hasn't really been talking to any of us since she left. She's doing all right?"

"I think so."

"Good. And you?"

Tim shrugged.

"Well, Gibbs still isn't back. You hungry?"

"I'm always hungry."

Naomi got up, too.

"Maybe we can find something in Agent Gibbs' cupboards."

"Should we just go looking through his stuff?" Tim asked.

"Gibbs won't care," Tony said. "In fact, he'd be more annoyed that we didn't when we were hungry."

Tim smiled a little bit and nodded. They walked together to the kitchen. Naomi made Tim sit at the table while she and Tony looked for something simple. Tony wasn't sure what to do, but since Naomi was here to make those decisions, he was happy to let her. They found some bread in a cupboard and some leftover roast in the fridge. That was good enough. Naomi made Tim a sandwich, and she made one for Tony as well. Tony wasn't particularly hungry, but he ate it so that Tim didn't feel like he was on display.

They didn't make any conversation while Tim was eating, in part because they didn't want to inadvertently trigger a bad memory. But what surprised Tony was Tim's single-minded intensity while he ate. There may as well have been nothing else in the world but that sandwich. He had known that Tim had likely been nearly-starved during his captivity, but seeing him now, two months after he had escaped from them, still acting like this meal was his first and last, it was a little disconcerting.

When he finished, he looked up.

"Thanks," he said, softly.

"No problem."

"I have to remind myself to say thanks. I forget...when I eat, it's all I can think of."

Naomi smiled.

"It's all right, Tim."

Tim shook his head.

"I wasn't like this before, was I?"

"No."

"Then, it's not all right." Tim sighed. "I just...I can't...see who I was, feel who I was."

Naomi shifted her chair to be right beside Tim. She put her arm around his shoulders. Tim stiffened for a moment and then leaned back.

"Don't try to force yourself to feel something you're not ready to feel. When you're ready, it will come."

"It's so hard to feel like this is where I'm supposed to be when I don't feel like I'm the person who fits here."

"You'll get there. I know you will."

Tony was interested that Naomi could accept all of this so easily. She had said that it was hard, but she didn't show it at all. And it seemed to work out well.

"What do I do the rest of the day?" Tim asked, finally.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Tim looked from Naomi to Tony.

"Gibbs said you weren't going in today," Tony said. "He meant it. You get a day to adjust. It's not enough. It's not what you deserve, but he was making sure that you at least got that much."

"So...what do I do, now?"

"I don't know," Tony said, shrugging with forced nonchalance. "Relax. Chill out."

"Are you sure that I shouldn't be doing something else?"

"Yes."

Tim nodded slowly. Then, he looked at them both.

"Then...could you tell me things?" he asked.

"Like what?" Tony asked.

"Happy things? Things that are good about this? I just don't have much of that, and...and I'm tired of not having anything happy...and it would be something that would keep me from thinking about...it." A quick breath.

"Of course, Tim. We can do that," Naomi said. "Let's go back into the living room. It's more comfortable."

"Marginally," Tony said. "Gibbs isn't big on comfort."

"I've noticed," Naomi said with a smile.

They got up and walked back to the living room. Tim sat down on the couch, but Tony was surprised at how...small he seemed. Tim still needed to gain some weight back, but the way he looked right now had nothing to do with his height or weight. He just seemed small, as if he wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and never see anyone again. After what he'd been through, Tony didn't blame him, but he hated seeing that in his friend.

Naomi sat beside Tim, but she sat far enough away that Tim didn't feel hemmed in. Tony sat on a chair.

"So...who's going to start?" Tony asked.

Naomi smiled.

"I'll start. Do you have any preferences, Tim?" she asked.

"No. I don't even know what to ask for."

"All right. Then, I'll choose...and some of this might be new for Tony, too. I know you never wanted to tell childhood stories. You didn't like the attention."

Tim said nothing.

"So...NCIS is the job you've wanted for years. You had law enforcement as a goal since you were in high school. Your father and I weren't sure about it, but you were so determined that we had to support you. You went to MIT and to Johns Hopkins and did everything we wouldn't have expected of a person who wanted to be a cop. We actually thought you had changed your mind...but then, you came to us and said that you'd sent in your application to NCIS. We were shocked, but in a good way. We knew you'd make it. When you set your mind to something, you do it. No matter the cost. I still remember the day you finished FLETC. You had some difficult moments there, times when you thought you were going to fail, but seeing you at graduation... we both knew that you were getting what you wanted."

Tony listened with interest as Naomi told Tim his own history. He knew some of this already, but not from the perspective of a mother worrying about her son.

Tim said nothing. He just looked at Naomi, waiting for her to continue.

"You were a little disappointed when you got assigned as a case agent at Norfolk. It was boring. No one really appreciated you there. There were only a couple of people who actually seemed to like you at all."

"Cassie Yates," Tim said softly. "She was an agent."

"Yes," Naomi said with a smile. "You talked about her a lot. You really enjoyed it when you got to work with her."

Tony knew who another person was and he hoped Tim didn't think of Petty Officer Cluxton. That case hadn't ended well for Tim, and while they were trying to tell him happy things, she wasn't a good illustration.

"I still remember the first time you met Agent Gibbs and the rest of his team," Naomi said, smiling at Tony who flushed at the memory of how he'd treated Tim in the beginning.

Tim looked at Tony, too, and raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Well...I teased you a bit in the beginning. ...and for a for a few years after that."

Naomi laughed a little. "That's not what Tim told me about you."

"What did he say?"

"That you acted kind of stupid, but you knew what you were doing. ...and that you were the first jock who actually let him do what he knew how to do."

"You thought I acted stupid?" Tony asked Tim.

"I guess so," Tim said.

Tony felt bad for a moment for asking Tim about the past, but then, Tim actually smiled. It wasn't his old smile, but it was a smile.

"How long do I get to use amnesia as an excuse?" he asked.

Tony wasn't sure if he should laugh or not for a moment, but then, he chuckled.

"I think we'll all know when that's over."

Tim nodded.

"Will you tell me more?"

"Of course."

The last thing Tony had expected to do with his day was spend it telling Tim stories about himself, but it was nice to see Tim starting to relax without the pressure of trying to relate what he might know about the people who had abducted him. Gibbs had insisted that this was what Tim needed, and Tony could see that it was helping. He just wished they could give Tim all the time he needed before leading him back into the horrible moments.

But time was not on their side.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Ellie stared at the information laid out in front of her with a perplexed expression. It was hard enough figuring all this out, but as she went through what Tim had been able to tell them, plus the evidence that they had from the cabin, from the people they'd arrested and identified, she wasn't sure she liked what she was seeing.

She had spread it all out on the table, but that wasn't enough room; so she had started taping pieces of paper to the chairs. Then, she walked around and around the table, staring at everything from all angles. Every so often, she'd grab a chip from the bag by the door and munch on it as she processed the information she had.

One of the things that made it so hard to figure all this out was Tim himself. How important was he? Did it matter that it was him and not someone else? So much focus on one man. Why hadn't they given up and killed him? Why spend so much effort on getting him to talk? Did it matter that it was Tim and not Tony or Gibbs or someone else?

The door opened, startling Ellie out of her rapt contemplation.

"What do you got?" Gibbs asked, with no preamble.

"Well, I have...ideas, but nothing really tangible."

"I don't care. Tell me."

"Okay. So...these guys are scarily organized and even more scarily patient. Like I said before, if we don't get the leaders, they'll keep on going, even if they have to wait for years to try again. We have some of the leaders, I think, but not all of them. You look at what they did to McGee. They took him, tortured him, moved him across the country, all so that they could get information about this building from him. I still can't understand why they decided to go that route. Why take him and torture him for information that a person on staff could have gotten after a year or two working here? Apparently, he didn't do what they wanted, but they didn't kill him and move on. They were willing to wait until they got what they wanted _from him_. No rush. Tim got away from them two months ago, but there was no sense of movement from them until _we_ started doing something."

"And how did they know that?"

"They've got to be watching the building somehow, Gibbs. They're so careful. If they couldn't get someone inside to get the layout themselves, they must have someone watching the outside."

"Bottom line."

Ellie sighed a little. She didn't like being rushed.

"Bottom line? They had a date planned. Tim told us that, but when he got away, that ruined their plan so far as it went. They'll assume that we know about it and they'll change tactics."

"Pushing it up or back?"

"I'd say up. Maybe up a lot. These guys are smart, organized and careful, but they'll also know that, the more time we have to think about things, the less likely it is that they'll succeed. They also have the problem of keeping the rank-and-file interested. If you're not _doing_ something, people will start to drift away. That's how groups like this lose steam. If they want to keep on with this destruction of federal agencies, then, they have to show that they're ready to do it. I just can't tell you how _much_ they'll move it up. That's too dependent on people we don't know anything about."

"You don't think they'll give up, though."

"I'm...97 percent sure that they won't give up, that they'll want to move on their plan sooner, rather than later." Ellie hesitated. "But I'm also worried about Tim."

"Why?"

"Because there's a kind of...relationship that forms between a torturer and the tortured. There's a connection, and if Tim's treatment was as intense as it seems to have been, the people who tortured him will have a kind of...feeling of possession. Ducky could probably use the right words, but I've seen it before. It's not just Tim being connected to his torturer. It's also the torturer being connected to Tim. I'm afraid that there might be something personal, now. Initially, I'm sure it wasn't, but...but whatever reason they had for picking Tim and not someone else probably has changed. They aren't going to want to let him go, not just because they think he can tell us about them but because...they'll feel like they _own_ him to some degree. It may not even be conscious, but I think that it's there."

"Why? If you don't know who they are."

"Because Tim's still alive. After six months of nothing, apparently, if all they cared about was getting information, they'd have killed him and moved on. They _wanted_ to hurt him. Getting information was important, but part of the reason they didn't just kill him is probably that they didn't _want_ to end it there. These guys are a weird combination of patience, planning...and emotion. They're not emotionless killers. They are driven by emotion. I don't know where it comes from, necessarily, but it's there and it's why I think Tim will be a target when they move."

Gibbs was silent for a long moment. Ellie looked at him and then looked back at the papers she'd strewn around the room. There was an order here that she just wasn't seeing yet, but she was sure it was there.

"Who do we have?"

"Normal people," Ellie said. "Or at least, they'd be normal if it weren't for the fact that they're planning on a full-scale assault on federal agencies. Most of them don't have anything in their record that would indicate this kind of feeling of resentment, but it could have started as the same kind of frustration that a lot of people feel...and then, it was encouraged by the leaders and it grew into this hatred and desire to attack."

Ellie walked over to the picture she'd taped to the chair at the head of the table.

"I think this is one of the leaders we've got. Edgar Hanson. He's a mechanic. You wouldn't look at him and think _domestic terrorist_ , but he has all the earmarks of one. He's one who has a reason to hate the government. His brother was convicted for drug possession. Three strikes. It's a law, and I found some news articles that had interviews with Hanson. He blamed the government for what happened to his brother. He has a clean record himself, but he also frequented anti-government websites. It's in his browser history. He has the anger, and he has the knowhow to do things, make things. But he couldn't have done it all on his own."

Gibbs was silent as he looked at the table.

"There's something I'm missing," Ellie said, finally. "I know it's there, but I'm not seeing it yet."

"Keep on it."

"I will. Is Tim coming back today?"

"No."

"Good. I really don't know that he could help us anymore with this stuff, anyway. ...and if he can, it's so hard to bring anything out that we might miss the forest for the trees."

Gibbs didn't say anything in reply; so Ellie went back to looking at the files.

"There's something here. I know it," she said to herself.

She walked back to the door and grabbed a handful of chips. She started munching and resumed walking around her work, trying to find the angle that would get her thinking right.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was a nerve-racking job. He worried that someone would see through him and know what he was doing there. At any moment, an agent would walk up to him and arrest him, and he'd have no recourse.

He'd been chosen because there was nothing in his record that would point him out as a revolutionary, but he didn't have the skills to gain access to much of the building. They'd told him not to worry about being anything more than a lowly janitor. That was all he had to be because that was all they needed. They had other plans to find out exactly what the building was like, exactly who would be where.

He didn't know what those plans were. He just knew that they hadn't worked out right. Just that morning, they'd told him that he needed to check on all the charges he'd placed around the appropriate exits. It had taken weeks to install them without being found out. Were they ready? Were they still wired correctly?

So off he went to check the emergency lights around the emergency exits.

When the time came, the small explosives would guarantee that people would leave through the correct exits. It was the details that meant the difference between success and failure, between life and death.

He felt some excitement about the coming event. He'd been bored at this job and really wanted something more, but now, all the effort was coming to fruition and soon he'd see the results.

Something that made all the work worth it. They were finally going to make a statement, come out of hiding and let the government know that they were fed up and ready to take control.

Soon.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly was twiddling her thumbs, wondering if she could or should say that she was going back to Montana. Tim's mom had come. He had a family who loved him. He had started remembering a few things, even if it wasn't everything. Quite frankly, Kelly was feeling useless, and she didn't like that. She wasn't used to sitting around doing nothing. She had been driven to succeed when she had been in Chicago. She had grown up working on a farm. There was always something to do, even if it was something fun. She had never just sat and done nothing.

The problem was that she knew Tim needed to reconnect with his old life. How would he get back his memory if he stuck with the new things all the time? So she was trying to give him space, but she didn't know what to do in lieu of being with Tim. That was the only reason she'd come with him, to give him the courage he needed to take that step. She didn't have much desire to bring back memories of her own with her ex, and that would happen if she started wandering around the National Mall.

Maybe it was time to ask Tim himself if he still needed her here. If he did, then, she'd stay and do what she could to help. If he didn't, then, she could go back to Montana and wonder if that was it. This had become more than she had expected, and less than she had hoped.

Of course, there was also the issue of getting back. Maybe, there was something that NCIS could do about that, but she suspected that the flight back to Montana would be on her dime, not theirs.

Regardless, she couldn't stand this uncertainty, and she knew that Tim would understand her need to know what should be coming next...and he wouldn't resent her for wanting to go home.

Decision made, Kelly called for a taxi and headed back to Gibbs' house.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs headed home, hoping that some progress had been made in his absence. He didn't care where the progress occurred. He just wanted there to _be_ progress...to make up for the _lack_ of progress at NCIS. He had left Ellie still staring at the conference room table. To him, it looked like a filing cabinet had exploded, but he knew it made sense to her. He had told her to go home, but he'd be surprised if she listened. He was finding that, when she really got her mind on something, it was hard for her to let go. It wasn't just about solving a case. It was about solving a puzzle, and that was almost as important for her. Hopefully, Jake would understand, although if he didn't know his wife already, he was in bigger trouble than this.

He pulled into the driveway and then went inside.

Tony was keeping watch, as he should be, but he was being more obvious about it than Gibbs would have expected.

...until he saw Tim curled up on the couch asleep while Naomi sat beside him, reading.

She looked up when he came in and smiled.

"Tim just felt tired. So I said that he should sleep as long as he needed to. I think he'll be hungry again when he wakes up," she said in a low voice.

Gibbs nodded.

"Kelly?"

"She left about an hour after I got here," Tony said, softly. "Naomi said she wanted to let Tim connect with his old life more easily."

"And?"

"And, I think it's better. He talked to me a little bit and he asked us to tell him things."

"Did he remember anything else?"

"Not much on his own, but he did have some glimmers."

"Good."

"What's going to happen tomorrow?"

Gibbs sighed.

"I thought so. Vance wants him in?"

"Vance doesn't, but the people above him do."

"Yeah, they don't care about whether or not it makes any sense. They just want it to _look_ like they're doing something. Man, Boss...isn't there any way to give Tim another day? This has helped him. It really has, and putting him back in that again so soon is going to lose all that."

"No way that I can see, unless we hide him somewhere."

Tony actually looked tempted. Gibbs was, too, to be honest, but reality didn't really accept that.

"We won't assume that he's going in. That'll give him more time."

"Okay. What about overnight?"

"Andrew and Geri are on duty outside. I'll be in here."

"Okay. Ellie?"

"Staring at files."

Tony smiled a little.

"Spread out all over the floor?"

"In the conference room."

"Right."

Suddenly, Tim inhaled sharply and sat up, looking around wildly for...whatever it was that had scared him. Naomi moved instantly and carefully put her arms around him. For a moment, Tim fought her, tried to push her away, but then, he went limp and let her comfort him.

And neither of them had said a word.

That was family. Gibbs was glad she'd come.

Gibbs waited for a few minutes and then, he made his presence known. Tim looked a little wary, but he could see the progress that had been made.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

Tim nodded.

"Good. So am I."

Gibbs headed into the kitchen to get out some steaks. He had some potatoes, too. It was simple yet substantial and it would be good for Tim.

Tony came into the kitchen just as he was getting things going.

"Might want to cook one more, Boss."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Kelly just pulled up outside."

Gibbs nodded and got out another steak. Luckily, these weren't expensive cuts. Still pricy, but affordable.

Tim, two of his coworkers, his mother and the woman who had saved him.

This would be an interesting meal.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Surprisingly, the meal ended up being rather dull, mostly because everyone was aware of how awkward it could potentially be...and so no one really said anything...which was still awkward. Once Tim started eating, he ceased to pay attention to anyone else anyway, giving Gibbs a chance to see that focus that Tim had developed on food. Like Ducky had said, it was understandable but could become a problem if it didn't ease off.

After he finished, he said a quiet thank-you. Then, Kelly leaned over.

"Tim, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Tim looked at her and nodded. The two of them got up and walked into the backyard. Tony watched them but didn't try to listen in. He just kept his eyes open.

"Tony said that things were better today," Gibbs said to Naomi as they started to clean up the dishes.

"Not having seen him before today, I can only assume so. But he's relaxed a bit which is good. I hate seeing him so messed up. Is there a chance that we could take him to Ohio?"

"Not right now, not while we don't know how much danger he's in."

Naomi nodded reluctantly.

"I understand. I just want to be able to watch over my whole family at once. I hate having them separated when they're in need of care. Sam is going to be in the hospital for at least another day."

"Will he come down here?"

"He probably shouldn't, but he will as soon as the doctors let him go."

Gibbs smiled a little.

"That doesn't surprise me."

"After you figure all this out, what will happen?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"As far as the case is concerned, Tim is free to go where he wants. He needs therapy."

Naomi nodded in agreement. "No matter where he ends up, he needs that."

"Then, we'll have to allow him to do what he wants to do, even if that means leaving here, whether permanently or temporarily."

"He might," Naomi said. "I don't think it would be permanent, but I can see him leaving temporarily, just to get his balance back."

"And Kelly?"

Naomi smiled. "She's an interesting woman. I get the feeling she's holding herself back a little bit just because she doesn't know her purpose here. There's no question that Tim has some kind of feeling for her, but he told Tony that he doesn't know exactly what it is. It's hard to form a relationship out of a situation like this. I do hope that they get the chance to find out."

The sliding door opened and Tim and Kelly came back in together.

"Agent Gibbs, is there any chance that NCIS could help me get a flight back to Montana?" Kelly asked.

"When?"

"As soon as you can, but if there's no way, I'll manage it myself."

Gibbs raised his eyebrow in surprise. This wasn't something he'd expected, but it wasn't his business...at least not to ask in front of everyone.

Naomi seemed to feel the same way. She hugged Kelly, briefly.

"I'm glad to have met you, Kelly. No matter what, you'll always be welcome with us. Athens isn't the most exciting city, but you are always welcome to come."

Kelly smiled.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. Agent Gibbs?"

"I think we can help out with that. Tomorrow."

"Thank you. I'll be back in the morning. I don't need a ride. I'll make it on my own."

She squeezed Tim's hand and then left the house.

"What happened, Tim?" Naomi asked. "Why is she leaving?"

"She doesn't want to be here," Tim said. "She doesn't think that it's a good idea for me to have the crutch all the time, but really, she doesn't want to be here. She doesn't like the reminder of everything she lost herself. I begged her to come with me...because I was afraid. I'm still afraid." He took a breath. "She's right, though. I need to be in my old life before I decide about the new life. So...she's leaving. She wanted to make sure that I'd be okay with it."

"And are you?" Gibbs asked.

Tim smiled weakly. "No, but it can't all be about me. Too much already is." He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.

Yes, too much _was_ about him right now, but it had to be. Gibbs wasn't sure about Kelly leaving, but he could see her point and he could understand her desire to get back to where she belonged.

"Tomorrow, Agent Gibbs," Tim began and then, he stopped.

"I don't know, Tim."

"They want me to remember more."

"Yeah."

Another breath. "Does it matter that I don't?"

"It matters, but not to them."

Tim nodded and then looked away. It was clear that he wanted nothing more than to stay away from the one place that had consistently triggered his flashbacks. Still, he said nothing more about it. Gibbs wished there was something he could say that would make Tim feel better about it that wouldn't be a total lie. Unfortunately, he couldn't. He couldn't even say that what he was doing would help others because it was unlikely that anything Tim could tell them, at this point, would actually help. He couldn't say that the memories would get better because, while that was true, there seemed to be no end to Tim's memories of his time in captivity. If they didn't help him remember the good things, how long would it take for him to get through the bad?

All in all, the situation sucked. ...for everyone, but especially for Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly sighed as she walked into her hotel room. Was this the right thing to do or was she just trying to get away from a situation that was way more complicated than she'd ever have expected?

At the same time, Tim had asked her to come because he needed help getting here. He was here and, patchy as his memories were, he _was_ starting to remember. He didn't need someone from his new life there conflicting with the memories of his old life.

 _And I don't have the slightest idea of what to do now, anyway._

All in all, she really did feel that leaving was the best option. It was just that she felt a little guilty about making that decision because she knew it was also what she wanted. She wanted to get away from all these complications and decide what she really felt without all the pressure. And Tim would benefit from not having to worry about whether or not she was still there. She'd be gone, and maybe, after a while, when Tim wasn't constantly afraid of remembering another horrible memory, this could all change.

She pulled out her phone and called home.

" _Kelly?"_

"I'm coming home, Mom. Tomorrow."

" _Really? Why? What happened?"_

"It's just time is all. I talked to Tim tonight. He needs to reconnect with his old life, and I'm not part of that. He needed me to get him here, but now, he's here. He doesn't need that, not now."

" _Are you sure?"_

"Yes. I feel bad about it, though. Am I really abandoning him because it's a little hard?"

" _I don't know, Kelly. Are you? Only you can answer that."_

Kelly took a deep breath.

"It's _really_ hard to see him like this, but if I thought I could do anything more, I would stay. I just don't think I can help anymore. I think I'm making it harder because he worries about me in addition to everything else."

" _Do you know what's coming next?"_

"Only that the people here don't care about him...the people in charge, at least. They only care about looking like they've done something. They're going to have him go in again tomorrow and talk more about things he doesn't even know. They don't care how much it might hurt him."

" _Sometimes, they can't. Some people have to look at the big picture. Remember that not everyone is like the police you dealt with."_

Kelly sighed. "This whole thing really sucks, Mom. I feel like there's no real _right_ thing to do. There's only a bunch of wrong things and no matter who chooses what, things are still going to suck."

" _Maybe there isn't anything that's_ right _, but there are a lot of neutral options."_

"You can tell Dad that there is one good thing that came out of this."

" _What's that?"_

"The farm seems like a much better place than it did before."

There was a soft laugh.

" _I'll tell him, although he may not take it as a compliment, all things considered."_

"Maybe he shouldn't. I'll be home tomorrow."

" _We'll be there to pick you up. Just let us know your ETA."_

"I will. Bye."

Kelly hung up and then lay down on the bed, hoping that she wasn't making a big mistake.

Half an hour later, her phone rang.

"Kelly Hoopes."

" _Ms. Hoopes, you should be getting a confirmation of your plane ticket leaving tomorrow morning at nine."_

"Oh. Thank you, Agent Gibbs. That was fast."

" _Good connections. Are you sure this is the right thing to do?"_

"No. I'm not, but I think it might be the _only_ thing I can do for him. He understands, even if you don't."

" _Thanks for bringing him back."_

"I don't know if I'm glad about that or not."

" _Don't know if you should be. Good luck."_

"Thanks. I hope that something good comes out of all this."

" _So do I."_

He hung up. Kelly sighed again. Was it the best option? Maybe not. It was the _only_ option.

She could only hope that it wouldn't be bad.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Naomi woke up early. She got up from the couch that she had slept on, refusing to take Gibbs' bedroom and wanting to give Tim privacy. She walked to the spare room and quietly opened the door. Tim was asleep.

She was relieved. She knew that he'd had a hard time sleeping through the night due to his nightmares. Now, with him quiet and asleep, Naomi could see that her son had gone through a lot of suffering. There were signs even though he was clearly recovering, physically. His body had gone through a major strain and it couldn't fully recover in the time it had so far.

Quietly, she closed the door again and headed back to the living room. Knowing that Sam would be awake, she decided to call him and bring him up to speed.

" _Since you're not back here fretting over me, can I assume that you're fretting over our son?"_

Naomi smiled. That sounded more like her husband. He would rally from this latest scare.

"Not actively fretting at the moment. I'm at Agent Gibbs' house. Tim is still asleep right now."

" _And?"_

"And he's started to remember little things, but the last few months are mostly what he remembers."

" _I suppose that's logical, but it's terrible at the same time,"_ Sam said. _"Besides, David Borenstein said that 'feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions.'"_

"You must be feeling better."

" _I am. Thank you. Sarah is having trouble accepting that I'm not on the brink of death, but she tends to blow things out of proportion."_

"That may be true, but you know she didn't this time."

" _Yes, I know. What's going to happen next?"_

Understanding the return to serious discussion, Naomi took a breath. "Agent Gibbs said that Tim would have to go back to NCIS today and try to remember more. The worst of it is that no one seems to think it will do any good. It's for _appearances_ , not for reality. They're going to make Tim suffer just so that they can appear to be doing something."

" _...but maybe Tim_ can _tell them something more."_

"No one seems to think so."

" _What about Tim himself?"_

"I don't know."

" _He probably doesn't, either. But, even though I agree with you that this isn't right, maybe we'll have a chance to make lemonade out of lemons. Maybe Tim will do the impossible."_

"I don't know if I care about that."

" _You would if it weren't Tim. You've been in full-fledged mother-bear mode for months."_

Naomi knew that Sam was trying to soothe her, if only so that she didn't lose her temper at someone who might be in a position of power. No matter how bad things were now, they could always get worse if the wrong person were antagonized. That was the last thing they wanted for Tim.

"I want my family to be whole, Sam."

" _It is. It's just apart at the moment. You didn't lose me. You're getting Tim back. All in all, it could have been much worse. The doctors aren't letting me out yet, but as soon as you can, bring Tim up here. If you don't, I'll get Sarah to bring me down there."_

"I will."

" _Good. I love you."_

"I love you, too," Naomi said. Then, she hung up, feeling less upset than she had been before.

As she sat alone in the quiet of the house, she looked around at the space. It interested her that there was so little in this home. Tim had told them about how intimidating Gibbs could be, how he seemed to have little going on outside of NCIS itself, and how he'd lost a lot in the past. Still, even knowing that, she was surprised that there was not one photo that she could see. If Tim's loss of memory could be summed up in a space, this house would be fairly accurate. Probably, important things had happened here, but there was no evidence of it. The memories were only there for the one who knew it already. If Gibbs wasn't here, the house meant nothing.

There was a soft tread on the stairs.

 _Speak of the devil and who appeareth,_ Naomi thought to herself with a smile.

Gibbs came into the room and raised an eyebrow. Amazing how eloquent that could be. She knew what he was asking.

"He's still asleep," she said, softly. "When do we have to go in?"

"When they call me and force me to take him back there."

"Really?"

"It'll be today. No way of getting around it, but we're not going to assume that they want us there first thing in the morning."

Naomi nodded. "How long?"

"Probably around noon."

"Okay."

"You hungry?"

"I'll wait and eat with Tim. Health-wise..."

"He's okay. The doc said there could be some problems, but overall, he's not bad."

Naomi nodded again. Gibbs walked by her, headed toward the kitchen.

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs," she whispered.

Gibbs stopped, looked back at her, looked at the door to the spare room where Tim was sleeping.

"It doesn't matter how long it took," she said. "He's back and I know you're fighting for him. That's what matters."

"Then, you're welcome."

Gibbs kept walking to the kitchen. Naomi leaned back and waited for Tim to wake up.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ellie came in early. She felt like she was letting Gibbs down by not figuring this out. This was the kind of thing she was supposed to be able to do well, and she wasn't getting it. Something was eluding her.

She was staring at all of her pieces of paper. The conference room had been turned into a collage. She heard the door open but didn't turn away from her work.

"Whoa. What happened in here?"

Ellie sighed.

"How long have you been in here already, Bishop?"

"I don't know. I'm missing something, Tony! I just can't see what it is."

"You planning on solving everything all at once?"

Ellie turned around.

"No, but Gibbs wants me to figure these people out. I'm making progress, but not enough. Everything I'm seeing about them makes me think we should expect something soon. ...but what and when...I just don't know!"

Tony walked over to one of the chairs covered with paper. He carefully pulled off all the sheets and stacked it on the table. Then, he sat on the chair and looked at her.

"Okay. Tell me why."

"What?"

"Tell me why you're sure about it."

Ellie took a breath. "Okay. I told Gibbs. These people are scary organized. They left nothing to chance. I mean, they were willing to spend six _months_ trying to get Tim to tell them about the structure of this building. Six months! They could have got someone inside here, and I'd be surprised if they didn't."

"Okay, if they do have someone here, why torture Tim for it?"

"Because Tim is an agent. He knows all the parts of the building, both secured and not secured. Probably, they could have taken _any_ agent and got the same result."

"Then, why Tim?"

"Why not?" Ellie returned. "It had to be someone, and Tim is who they picked."

"Yes, I guess. Okay, why would they need to know all about the structure of the building? Even if they want to get rid of law enforcement, they could just blow the place up. Other groups have done that."

"I don't know, but if their intention is to get rid of all federal law, then, maybe the building isn't enough. After all, you can always build another building. Look at the World Trade Center. Not only is it being rebuilt, it's going to be bigger and better than the old complex was. It's become a symbol of how we don't back down in the face of terrorism. Oklahoma City. It wasn't the building that people thought about. It was the people who were killed. You destroy a building, all you're doing is tearing down some cinder block. Religious and historical structures are different, of course, but a business building, in and of itself, doesn't mean much. If you kill _people_ , it's more traumatic. I think Tim's abduction was partly about that. I think Tim is a symbol for them. They can tear him down as much as they want. He should probably be dead."

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean," Ellie said. "Once Tim gave them what they wanted, they'd have killed him...or if they decided he was never going to help them, probably in such a way as to leave the body really...marred."

"Marred?"

"They'd want us to know that he suffered, that they had been able to do all this to him and we couldn't stop them. It's psychological warfare. It's a classic ploy. But they failed in that. They won't want to lose their chance to cause as much psychological damage along with the physical damage as is possible."

"Okay. So why do you think that they'll be doing something big and soon?"

"Because they lost their chance to carry out the original plan," Ellie said. She pointed at the pictures of the people they had in custody. "We know that the leaders are patient, but that doesn't mean that all the people they have with them are. If they've been working on it for months, probably years, a lot of the necessary steps have already been carried out. We just don't know what they are. People have been trained for what's going to happen. When you have people giving their all to a cause, you can't back out. You'll lose them. Causes are only as powerful as the people they have backing them up."

"When, then?"

"I don't know. It could be today, for all we know. I just feel like there's something about what they're doing that I'm missing. An answer that's in all this that I'm not getting."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up late in the morning. He ate breakfast with Naomi and then sat down in the backyard and waited for the shoe to drop. He knew it would. It was just a matter of when. Gibbs hadn't said anything. Naomi hadn't said anything, but they all knew it was coming.

He wasn't trying to remember anything. He wasn't _not_ trying to remember anything. For once, he was just sitting, feeling the sun on his face, hearing the breeze, feeling the grass between his toes. It was almost nice. It was almost just him and nothing and no one else in the world.

Almost.

Lurking around the edges of the pleasant sensations was the not-so-pleasant reality in which he was living. As much as was possible, he was trying to ignore that. It just wasn't completely possible.

 _What happens after this?_

Tim didn't even know exactly what _this_ was, but there would be an after, and what would happen after that? His memory was still full of holes, so many things missing that he couldn't link everything together.

He sighed as he was drawn, reluctantly, back into reality. He couldn't avoid it for very long.

He heard a phone ring inside and he knew what it would be, but he made no effort to get up and walk in. Let them come out and get him. Right now, he just tried to focus on the grass tickling his toes.

It felt nice. He liked the grass. It was really long. It probably should be mowed, but he didn't care. He just liked the grass on his feet. It was cool, slightly damp. It wasn't going to make any demands on him and his time. He didn't owe the grass anything. It didn't want anything from him. Perhaps some water if it got really dry. Otherwise, it just grew.

So simple. So easy. Grow, produce oxygen. That was pretty much it.

Simple.

The door opened behind him. The only reason he wasn't startled by it was that he'd been expecting it, listening for it. He didn't turn around.

Someone knelt down beside him.

"Tim?"

It was his mother.

"Yeah?"

"It's time."

Tim grimaced but he nodded. He stood up and walked into the house to get his shoes. Going back to the horror wasn't something that he wanted, but he didn't feel like he could refuse. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going back to NCIS.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Coming back to NCIS again filled Tim with dread. He hadn't yet managed to be in the building without having a meltdown. Still, he knew that he had no choice. Right now, the only thing he could do was acquiesce to whatever was asked of him.

Naomi and Gibbs were on either side of him, guiding him into the building. Tim didn't resist. Not this time. This time, he was going into this not expecting to help but expecting to be hurt by it. It was a kind of resigned dread that didn't feel any better than the panic did.

"Tim, are you all right?" Naomi asked.

"No," Tim said, flatly. "I'm not even close to all right."

He felt Naomi put a comforting arm around his shoulders. It was nice, but it wasn't enough.

"Is this really necessary, Agent Gibbs?" Naomi asked.

"Yes," but it was Tim who said it.

Naomi nodded, reluctantly. Tim appreciated her presence. There was something genuinely comforting about her, even if he didn't yet have all his memories back.

"Where to, first, Gibbs?" Tim asked.

"Conference room."

"Okay."

As they headed upstairs, Tim saw someone looking at him.

 _Probably someone else I'm supposed to know,_ Tim thought.

He tried to ignore it because he just didn't want to deal with another situation like that. He looked away from the man and kept walking.

...but something didn't feel right about that.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly got off the plane, walked into the airport and looked around. There was her father. That was a little surprising, given how rarely he left the farm. She smiled at him, walked over and hugged him tightly.

"Welcome back, Kelly girl," he said softly.

"Haven't heard that in a long time," she said.

"Maybe you need to hear it more."

"Maybe."

"You don't need to talk about it, now. Let's just go home, all right?"

"All right."

They got her bag and walked out of the airport.

"I wasn't looking for more complications in my life, Dad...but I got them, anyway."

"Life tends to be like that. Complications don't have to be bad, though. You just have to figure out what kind of complications they are. This will always be home for you, no matter what you choose."

"Thanks."

As they headed back to the farm, Kelly thought about the man she left behind in DC. All she could do now was hope that things got better for him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He hurried to a secluded space and made a call.

"He's here."

" _You're sure?"_

"Yeah. I saw him."

" _Two hours. We'll be in place. Understood?"_

"Two hours. Counting down."

The call ended.

Two hours and all their years of planning would finally come to fruition. By the time they were done, no one could mistake their cause. The people would rise up in revolution to take back the country and no federal law enforcement would remain to oppress the people.

Two hours.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat, fidgeting, in his chair. No meltdown yet, but there were no questions yet, either. That made him nervous.

"What's the delay?" Naomi asked.

"I don't know."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They came onto the Yard as tourists. A few already worked in the food court and could come and go without any trouble. They began to take up their assigned positions as unobtrusively as possible.

The guns had been brought overnight, across the Anacostia. They were ready.

Now, all they had to do was wait.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"There's something wrong," Tim said.

The feeling had only increased in the time he'd been here. It wasn't the same feeling as he'd had before. This was different. It was worse. He got up and walked to the door of the conference room, ignoring his mother's questions.

That man. Tim had seen him somewhere, but _not_ at NCIS. This meant something.

Something bad.

He walked out onto the balcony. Gibbs and Ducky were there, talking quietly.

"Timothy, we were just about to..."

"There's something wrong!" he said, emphatically.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Three.

Two.

One.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

That was all Tim got to say. Suddenly, they heard the rumble of a number of small explosions around the building.

Fire alarms went off.

People were moving toward the exits as they were trained to do. Everyone was trained to do this, from elementary school on down the line. When you hear a fire alarm, you leave the building.

Tim stood where he was. Something was moving around in his head. Something he had heard. Something he _knew_. Something that he _had_ to get out or people would die. He was sure of it.

Someone's hand was on his arm.

A voice speaking to him.

In that one interminable moment, Tim could only focus on what he had to remember. No matter the cost, he would have to pay. No matter what.

"STOP!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

People in the bullpen did stop. He had screamed so loudly that it was heard throughout the space.

"STOP! Don't go out there! You have to stay inside!" He was breathing loudly as he tried to resist the hand that was trying to move him.

"What's wrong, Tim?"

That was Gibbs' voice, the one people would obey.

Tim turned to him in desperation.

"No one can go outside. They'll die!"

"Why? You have to tell us why."

Fighting through the mental block he'd constructed to save himself and everyone else, Tim grabbed Gibbs' arms, trying to force him to understand what he couldn't explain.

"Stop them!" he begged. "Don't let them die! Please!"

Tim couldn't look anywhere else. He saw Gibbs look away, but he couldn't follow his gaze.

"Stay inside. Stay inside."

Then, he heard a voice. Over the loudspeaker.

" _All personnel, this is Director Vance. Do_ not _evacuate. I repeat. Do not evacuate. Remain in the building. If you see a fire, move away from it and report its location, but remain indoors. This is a planned attack. Do not leave the building."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He heard the announcement and cursed to himself.

Stay inside? How had they figured this out? Ever since he'd reported that it seemed the agent didn't know anything, they had worked on that assumption.

How could he know?

If everyone stayed indoors, then, the plan was ruined.

No. No, there would still be blood.

He ran from his hiding spot, weapon in hand, heading for the bullpen. He could still take out as many as possible. He could still get rid of the agent.

There would still be blood.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The alarm was driving him crazy. He couldn't think through the throbbing pain it gave him. He couldn't think about why he was so sure this was necessary.

What was it he remembered?

"Tim?"

"That man. That man. I saw him. He's..."

A memory. He _needed_ that memory. If he didn't get it, they wouldn't believe him and people would die. He closed his eyes tightly, but he couldn't let go of Gibbs' arms, couldn't let him leave without understanding why this was so important.

"Tim."

It was from the beginning. He could see that. His wrist had still hurt. He'd heard them talking.

What had happened?

"Tim, talk to me."

" _Look, I don't like this. Taking one of them is asking for trouble. They'll start looking! We don't need that kind of attention!"_

" _Yes, we do. Besides, he knows things, things that we can't find out just by having a guy in the mail room or on maintenance."_

"It's another memory."

And this time, Tim didn't want them to stop him from remembering. He tried to tune out the real world.

" _Like what?"_

" _Like all the routes that would be the preferred routes out of the building in an emergency. Like how they'd react if under fire. Like where the important stuff is, where the important_ people _are. We're going to kill them, pin them down so that there's no safe place to go, in or out. Rats. They're just vermin that need to be got rid of. He's one of them. Everything he suffers will be like them suffering. And everything he tells us will get more of them killed. They won't be thinking about_ why _he's missing. They'll be thinking about getting him back."_

" _That's a bad thing!"_

" _No, it's a good thing because, then, when we finally get him in place, they'll be so swallowed up by trying to rescue this leech that they won't notice the charges being placed. They won't notice the trap being assembled all around them."_

" _Me, sir?"_

" _Yes, you."_

Suddenly, there was someone shaking him.

Tim opened his eyes. He looked around wildly for the man he'd seen, the man who had been chosen to work here, to set all this up so that people would die. He'd seen him before. He'd seen him today.

"Where is he?" he asked. "Where?"

He let go of Gibbs and started for the stairs. There were people around, but Tim didn't see them. He'd moved half into that other state, the one that couldn't allow much in because his mind wouldn't take it. It couldn't handle more than it was dealing with at the moment.

Arms were trying to hold him back, but he couldn't accept that. He had to find the man who was here somewhere. He pulled away.

He started to run for the stairs.

He went down and ran headlong into someone else.

"Tim? What is it? What's wrong?"

Tim pushed the voice away.

 _Don't listen. You'll lose it._

He kept moving.

Then, he stopped.

There was the man. He was right there.

Only this time, he had a gun.

Tim found that he couldn't bring himself to move or to shout or anything. He just stood there, staring.

As the man raised the gun.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony saw Tim start to run, but he saw that glazed look in his eyes that said he wasn't really thinking. He was reacting, but not to anything that anyone else could see. He tried to stop him, but like at the cabin, Tim wasn't hearing him and he wasn't going to be stopped. So while everyone was trying not to panic and was being herded to safe spaces inside the building...while Vance was getting his agents together to try and make a plan that involved figuring out just what the danger was when Tim couldn't tell them, Tony followed Tim.

The fire alarm was still going off. It was really annoying.

It seemed to take forever, but then, Tim stopped and stared around the corner.

"Tim...what–?"

"You'll still die. After all this, you'll be the first to bleed."

Tony heard the words, ran around the corner and didn't stop to ask questions. He had told Tim that he wouldn't let him be hurt anymore. He had meant it.

He grabbed Tim, who seemed frozen in place, and pulled him to the floor. That wasn't enough. There wasn't enough cover in the hallway. He lunged at the man, whom he recognized vaguely as being one of the janitors in the building. The gun went off twice, and the man missed both times.

 _Must not be very skilled for a deranged killer,_ Tony thought grimly.

He tackled the man, and they began struggling for the gun. He may not have been skilled at firing the gun, but the man certainly wasn't letting go of it.

The gun went off three more times and Tony felt a flash of fire across his forehead and then, a dizzying feeling of dislocation.

The gun was wrenched away from him and he fell back, trying desperately to keep himself conscious and alert.

Blood was running down into his eyes.

 _Bad graze,_ he thought vaguely. At least, that's what he _hoped_ it was.

There was a ringing in his ears. He seemed to have gone partially deaf.

Then, there was someone wiping the blood away.

"Did he get away?" Tony managed to ask. He was trying to get his eyes open, but they weren't listening to him.

 _Maybe they can't hear me over the fire alarm,_ he thought.

"No. He didn't get away."

That wasn't the voice he'd expected to hear.

"Tim? That you?"

"I guess it is. Everyone tells me that's who I am. Can you get up? I don't want to leave you alone here, but I have to get back to Agent Gibbs."

Tony recognized the voice, but Tim seemed strangely calm and confident, two words that could _not_ have described him in the time he'd been back.

"What about the psycho?"

There was a long pause.

"Can you get up?"

Tony forced his eyes open. Tim was there. His face was pale, but there was a look in his eyes that said he wasn't going to do anything else but what he needed to do. That meant that Tony needed to make it so that he could.

"I can try," Tony said.

Tim helped him stand, but Tony felt really woozy. He leaned against Tim who said nothing as he helped him back through the halls to the bullpen. Tony's eyes kept closing which was really annoying, and he couldn't focus.

"Hey, take him."

"Agent McGee..."

"Just take him."

"Tim?" Tony asked.

"Later."

Tony felt himself handed over.

"You okay, Tony?"

"No."

"Okay. Let's get you to a chair."

"Where did Tim go?"

"Back upstairs. He looked kind of weird, but I guess he had something he needed to do."

"Yeah."

Just like Gibbs had done something before leaving and running away to Mexico.

Tony wanted to say something about that, but he couldn't focus enough to do it. He supposed he would just have to wait.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was only barely keeping himself from falling apart, but he was determined to see this through. He had to be able to stop them. They were the ones responsible for all his pain. This was his only chance.

...one had died just like any other person did. It was time to get the rest of them.

"Tim!"

"They're outside," Tim said. "They're waiting for us to go out the exits that haven't been compromised and they'll start shooting. They want to kill as many as possible. Blood is the only language people understand and that's the language they want to use. There are probably a lot of them out there. If you're going to get them, you'll have to be ready for that. I can't tell you where they'll be waiting, but it'll be by the exits people were going to take. ...and one of them is dead in the hall by interrogation. I shot him. Agent DiNozzo got a bullet graze."

Gibbs, Vance and a number of other people Tim couldn't give any attention to were all staring at him. Vance started to speak. Tim knew what he was going to ask.

"I can't answer any more questions. I've told you what I know. Whatever you do next, you'll have to figure it out from what I've said. There's nothing else I can say. I don't know how long they'll wait before they decide to cut their losses, but if you want to find them, you'll have to act fast. Now...I'm going to go back into the conference room."

Tim turned away from them and started walking. He could feel himself ready to fall apart. He could feel the breakdown coming, but he was determined to get into the room, first. He was determined to maintain this glassy calm for as long as possible.

He opened the door to the conference room. He staggered inside and collapsed at the table. For a long moment, he was just breathing. Then, there were gentle arms lifting him up and pulling him into a hug.

"Tim?"

"I killed him, Mom. I shot him and I felt nothing."

"It's going to be all right, Tim."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs looked at Vance and raised an eyebrow. Vance looked briefly conflicted. Politics warring with what he knew needed to be done. Then, he nodded.

"Okay," Gibbs said. He went to the balcony and shouted down.

"We can't leave the building until we're sure that it's safe outside!" he said loudly.

Everyone started looking up at him. Gibbs noticed Tony getting treated by Ducky and Jimmy. Abby had come up and was fretting but keeping herself cool for the moment. He could see that Tony was conscious and so he moved on.

"What we need is to find out which exits were damaged and which weren't. How many of you actually saw a damaged exit?"

A scattering of hands.

"How many saw a clear exit?"

A smaller number.

"Those who saw a damaged exit report to Agent Bishop! Those who saw a clear exit report to Agent Lovitz! Two minutes!"

One thing Gibbs had appreciated about the people working at headquarters was that, even if they weren't all used to conflict, when it came down to it, they knew what to do and didn't panic.

In less than two minutes, Ellie and Lovitz were reporting on the exits. Not all had been seen. They needed to know about all of them. So he sent Ellie and Lovitz to check on the remaining exits. While he was waiting for them to get back, Gibbs walked over to Vance.

"We can't do this on our own, Leon," he said in a low voice.

"The FBI is on its way over. So are two teams from the DC office," Vance said. "They won't move until we give them something to aim at."

"They'll have it."

"Gibbs, of the four exits that weren't reported, only one was clear," Ellie said.

"Will they still be out there?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. They're committed now. It's about taking us out. They're not giving up unless they know that we're onto them."

"It's been more than five minutes. How could they not?"

"Point, but because they've shown their hand, I think they'll see it through. They think they've got us pinned down. No sign of anyone coming onto the Yard...and they may decide to invade if we don't move on them soon."

Gibbs nodded. It was time to end this. They were willing to sacrifice lives, and he was happy to let them do it.

He gestured to the agents. They went to four of the damaged exits and cleared out the space for a sortie. They needed to distract their attackers so that the FBI could come in from the outside and take them out.

Vance went into MTAC to give them the word. Gibbs and Ellie went to the front door. Henry, the security guard, was there with them. He wasn't really in the best condition for it, but he was another person who knew how to use a gun.

Quietly, they waited. Vance was going to give them the signal.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim couldn't stop shaking. It wasn't a flashback, for once, but it was terrible. It was one of those times when his mind and his body couldn't agree on what was appropriate and he was left feeling completely out of control. Right now, his mother was holding him and comforting him. He knew she was there. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He was just shaking with his eyes closed.

"It's all right, Tim. I'm right here. I'm not letting you go."

The voice penetrated the overwhelming fear and Tim was glad of it, even if he couldn't say so.

Suddenly, over the PA system, there was one word.

" _GO!"_

Tim sat up and looked around, wanting to obey, but not knowing where he should go _to_.

"Tim, stay. It's not you. Just wait."

"Wh-What's h-happening?"

"I don't know, but you can't help right now. You've done what you needed to do."

"Is it en-n-nough?"

"Yes."

That was all he could manage. He sagged back down and let his mother comfort him, hoping that he would never have to feel that pain again.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

Kelly walked down the road by the canal. She felt safe here. She felt like she belonged here.

 _Is this where I'm supposed to be?_

She climbed up on the bank and sat down. She stared at the water as it flowed by. She could hear the circle sprinklers and the occasional moo. She was a little close to a blackbird's territory and it chirped at her off and on.

They were the sounds of home. They always had been. Chicago had been big and exciting when she'd gone there, but had never been home. Not really. It had been a place she had lived, away from home.

The farm was in her blood. She didn't know how Jeff had avoided it, but he had. He wanted to get away...but then, so had she in the beginning. Now, she was back, and the longer she stayed, the less she wanted to leave.

"You wanting to brood alone or do you want company?"

Kelly smiled and looked back. Paul was standing there.

"Come on up, if you want."

Paul climbed up and sat down beside her.

"What's up?"

"Trying to figure out what my future will be."

"You try to plan too much. It doesn't work. Sometimes, you really just have to let go."

"I'm not that kind of person, Paul. I can't let go of things."

"Or people."

Kelly looked at him. "Are you talking about Robert or Tim?"

"Or Lizzie?"

Kelly grimaced.

"That's ancient history, Paul. None of us talk about that anymore."

"Talking or not, you don't let go of it. Lizzie was your twin, Kelly. It's not history. She's part of who you are, and you've never let go of the fact that you were the healthy one and she died. You hold on to people because you're afraid of losing them. You walk away only at the last second because you keep hoping that they'll stay. Lizzie was never going to live very long, but she beat the odds just enough for you to lose her and feel guilty for not being able to keep her here. Even when Robert treated you like dirt, you would have gone back to him if he had allowed it because you don't want to lose people."

"I'm not a doormat, Paul," Kelly said.

"No, you're not, but while you're trying to figure out your life, don't forget that it's not all about loss."

Paul put an arm around her shoulders.

"I love you, Kelly. I love this place. I love you being here, but I hate to see you so conflicted about what you want."

Kelly leaned on Paul. He was so solid. Always there, always supporting.

"I don't know what I want. If it hadn't been for Tim appearing out of nowhere, I might have just settled down here and never left. But then...Tim showed up and it changed things."

"Do you love him?"

Kelly laughed a little. "I don't know. As things are right now, no. It's too complicated for love. I care about him. I want him to be happy, but I know well enough that, the problems he has at this point are just too much for me. I don't know if that means never, but it's so complicated."

"It is. I agree. I'm not going to try to tell you what to do."

"I almost wish you would."

"Nah. You'd disagree and then go off on your own just to prove that your way was the right way, even if it wasn't. What if he does remember everything and he calls you up?"

"I couldn't just say no. I'd have to see if there was anything to what we both felt."

"As long as it's what you want."

"Yeah. What I want."

"And as long as you don't give Robert another chance, no matter what he does. I might have to hogtie you, stow you in the barn and throw him in the canal to keep that from happening."

"Don't worry about that. Robert is definitely not what I want."

"Good."

"Kelly! Paul!"

They both turned and saw Jeff running up the road toward them.

"What is it?" Paul asked.

"Did you see the news?"

"What news?"

"There was some big shootout at NCIS in DC! A bunch of people got killed."

Paul looked at Kelly who felt stricken.

"Tim?" she asked.

Jeff shook his head. "I don't know. It just happened. They're not giving many details right now. No names at all, but it's big."

Kelly jumped to her feet and ran down to follow Jeff back to the house.

What if she had left just in time for Tim to be killed by the people who had captured him before?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs was glad to note that NCIS got off the first shots, not their attackers. There were at least twenty of them, settled into spaces where they could fire without being seen, but once you knew they were there...

The FBI and other NCIS teams came storming in from the Middendorf building just east of NCIS headquarters.

In five minutes, it was all over. Thirteen of the attackers were dead, another seven were in custody. Three FBI agents and two NCIS agents were injured. But it was over.

Gibbs looked around at the organized chaos and then smiled at Fornell as he walked over.

"You people just can't seem to stay out of things, can you," Fornell said.

"Not our fault people like us so much," Gibbs said.

"Hated is more like it," Fornell grunted. "You all okay?"

"Mostly. Some injuries from the initial attack."

"McGee?"

Gibbs shrugged. There was really no way of knowing how Tim was at this moment. He hadn't been all right before. No reason to think he would be now.

"Did we get them all?"

"Doubt it, but we got a lot of them, and someone will start talking."

Fornell nodded.

"What now?" he asked.

No question about what he meant.

"Don't know. Depends."

"Yeah, I figured. He remembered enough to do this?"

"Yeah."

"Good for him. It's hard to remember the things you've wanted to forget."

"Yeah."

Fornell gave him a look but didn't say anything more. He went back to coordinate the clean-up effort. Gibbs looked at Ellie. She nodded and followed.

"This fit with what you were thinking?"

"Yeah," she said. "I wish I hadn't been right, but I knew it would be big if they could manage it. This wasn't the trial. This was the real thing. It's really important that this was the real thing and not practice."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Because they failed at what they were planning and now we know about it. The chances that we actually got all of them are slim to none, but they'll have to start all over if they want to try again. That gives us more time to find them."

They went back into the building. Tony was still in the bullpen where Ducky was trying to convince him to give in and go to the hospital to get his bullet graze taken care of.

"Anthony, you really do need stitches. A bandage won't do. You're lucky it wasn't any deeper."

"But since it wasn't, I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

Gibbs strode over to Tony's desk.

"You're going to the hospital, DiNozzo. Got it? No arguments."

Tony sighed.

"Got it, Boss. Tim?"

"Don't know yet."

"And you're making me go."

"You're in the way, Tony. Go and get patched up."

"Okay."

Gibbs gestured for Ducky and Jimmy to help him. Employees were starting to leave the building, although there were FBI agents on alert, and the Yard had, effectively, been locked down. No one would be leaving the Yard for hours yet.

Without being told, Ellie followed him into the hall outside Interrogation. Gibbs sighed when he saw the dead man. The gun was still there.

"Tim said he'd killed him," Ellie said.

"Yeah." There was no reason to question it, but they could verify it with the cameras.

"What do you want to do, Gibbs?"

"Get another agent to help you document the scene. You know the drill."

"Right."

Gibbs left her to it and headed up to the conference room. He had no idea what state Tim would be in at this point. He'd seen it in Tim's eyes. He had been close to a breakdown. At least, Naomi had been there to help him through it while they were getting everything else done. Now, it was time to see what had happened.

He knocked on the door.

"Come in."

That was Naomi, not Tim. Good sign or bad sign?

He opened the door. Tim was sitting on a chair. Naomi had her arms around him. His eyes were closed and he was shaking and pale.

Bad sign.

He walked over and sat down.

"He's been like this since he came in here," she said softly.

"Tim?" Gibbs asked.

No response.

"Tim, we got them. You don't have to worry about them anymore."

Still, no response.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I-I k-k-killed him."

"What happened?" Gibbs asked. Tim had actually said something. It was worth pursuing.

"Remembered him...from...from before. Saw him. He was...going to kill me. Tony...he...he stopped him. Bullet graze. Tony was...couldn't leave him like that. Went for the gun. Shot him. I...remembered...enough."

Tim's eyes were still closed.

"Yeah, you did, and you told us right away. That's what we needed. You saved a lot of people, Tim."

"I want to get out of here," he said softly. "Can I leave?"

"Not yet. It's going to take some time."

"Please."

"Tim, we just had a major attack on a federal building. People have been killed. You can't just leave yet. If you want to go outside, you can. If you want to go to another room in the building, you can, but you can't go off the Yard yet. Understand?"

Tim nodded, eyes still closed.

"Tim. Look at me."

Still shaking, Tim finally turned enough to face Gibbs and opened his eyes. Gibbs could see it. This wasn't the full breakdown. Tim was trying to hold it off, but he was hanging on by a thread. It would be cruel and mostly unnecessary to keep him here where he'd been having his worst experiences since coming back to DC. However, he didn't want to have Tim just out and about before they were able to verify how big a dent they'd made in this group's numbers.

"Stay here. I'll let you know when you can leave."

No words.

"I promise. Trust me."

Still, nothing.

Gibbs met Naomi's gaze and nodded. He wasn't going to leave Tim in this situation. Hopefully, after a few days, he'd be able to process it all. This was also their chance to start him getting the therapy he obviously needed. If they could get him to the hospital and have him admitted for a few days, that would keep him safe and get him some care. He got to his feet and strode out of the conference room. He looked around and found Agent Lovitz directing traffic in the building. Firefighters were getting sent to places where there might still be some smoldering remnants of the charges.

Quickly, Gibbs headed down to the bullpen.

"Lovitz."

Agent Lovitz sent another group off.

"What's up, Gibbs?"

"Can you spare anyone?"

"For how long?"

"Until I can get McGee secured in a hospital."

"Did he get hurt?"

"No. He needs to get out of here, and he needs help."

"Oh. Well, I think Lara could go. I wouldn't want to send Adam Saunders by himself. Not enough experience for that, but with Lara..." He thought about it for a few seconds. Then, he looked around. "Miller! Saunders!"

The two agents appeared in under a minute.

"What is it, Robert?" Lara asked.

"I need you two to help Gibbs get Agent McGee to a hospital. He needs watching until he's secure in the hospital." He glanced at Gibbs. "Bethesda?"

"Probably."

"When you're done, come back here. Understood?"

"Got it," Lara said. "Where is he?"

"Up in a conference room. You get a car ready?"

"You cleared this with Vance?" Lovitz asked. "Or is that too much to hope for?"

Lara smiled when Gibbs didn't answer.

"I'll have the car ready and I'll talk to the mucky-mucks outside and let them know that we've got to get off the Yard."

She walked off with Adam in tow. Before Gibbs left, Lovitz grabbed him by the arm.

"You could do this the right way, Gibbs. You know that you could. Vance understands the situation."

"Vance has to answer to people who don't understand and don't care about understanding. If I go around him, he can't get in trouble for it."

Lovitz sighed. "And because it's you, everyone will expect it. You're way too devious."

Gibbs smiled once more and headed back up to the conference room. He knocked briefly and walked in.

"Let's go."

"What?" Naomi asked. "Where?"

"Bethesda."

Tim looked at him.

"Bethesda?"

"The hospital. You need out of here, but we need to keep you secure until we're sure that you're completely safe. You ready?"

"Yeah."

"Then, let's go."

Naomi helped Tim stand. He was still pale, but he'd passed through the throes of panic and was in the lull in between. He could get pulled back to panic or continue on to something calmer. Gibbs was happy to help him.

As they headed out the door and down to the exit, Tim suddenly looked around.

"Is...Tony?"

"He'll be fine. We got him off to a hospital. He was awake enough to protest."

"The man I...?"

"Ellie is taking care of that."

"Okay."

Gibbs got Tim outside as quickly as possible. Lara had been typically efficient and the car was waiting. Tim and Naomi got into the back. Lara and Adam were in the front.

"We'll get you to Bethesda, no problem, Agent McGee," Lara said.

Then, Gibbs heard something that surprised him. It wasn't shocking on the surface, but it was underneath.

"Thanks, Lara," Tim said, softly.

Gibbs didn't get a chance to ask anything because the car pulled away.

Tim hadn't interacted with Lara at all since he'd come back. He knew who she was.

How much did he remember? Could it really have all come back in that brief time?

There was time. Now, there was time. He'd find out.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

Tony was fully awake, now. He was awake and not particularly happy about it. He wanted to be in the mushy other state where he knew he was hurt but only in a vague way. Now, he was _feeling_ it. His head ached. They'd put in the stitches. He was just waiting to be released. He knew Gibbs wouldn't let him work like this, not when there were so many other people involved already, but he could do _something_.

"All right, Agent DiNozzo. We'll let you go, but you are to take it easy for the next day or so, all right?"

"Should I just pretend that I agree with you?" Tony asked.

The nurse rolled his eyes.

"At least _try_ , Agent DiNozzo."

"I'll fail, but sure."

The nurse shook his head and let Tony go. He was glad to find that he was getting released even before anyone from NCIS could come and check on him. It had been hours already. He could choose to be upset that they hadn't checked on him, but he knew how big these kinds of investigations could get and it would be hard for anyone to get away. For all he knew, the people who just worked in the building could still be on the Yard, waiting to be released and go home.

As he headed out of the hospital, with his headache and his stitches, he thought about what had obviously occurred. Tim had managed to subdue the man in some way. Considering the man's intent had been to kill, Tim had probably been forced to kill him.

What he didn't know was what had happened afterward. He had been just enough out of it that he couldn't think of all the details. That was a little frustrating. As he walked out of the hospital, he decided to call Gibbs.

The phone rang a few times.

" _Gibbs."_

"Boss."

" _You out?"_

"Yep."

" _Because they let you or because you left anyway?"_

"They let me. Reluctantly. What do you need?"

" _Go to Bethesda."_

"Um...why?"

" _Tim is in the hospital there and I'll feel better if someone other than hospital security is watching him."_

Tony's heart sank.

"What happened to him?"

" _Nothing. He just needed to get off the Yard."_

With more relief than he'd admit, Tony agreed.

"So how long will you keep him there?"

" _A few days, probably. The shrink'll help."_

"Yeah. What do you want me to do?"

" _Be there."_

"Right."

Tony didn't have his car, but he could get a taxi and he did.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kelly was sitting in Paul's living room, staring at the TV. Her parents had _never_ had a TV. Stephen's only acknowledgment of the outside world had been to take a newspaper and at that, it had been more for Marilyn than for him. In fact, Kelly had been amazed the first time she'd gone to a friend's house and watched cartoons. So, as soon as she got back to the house, she'd asked Paul to let her take over his television. She'd tuned into ZNN and it was playing what little had been released over and over again. So far, there had been no naming of the dead and injured. The Yard had been shut down. Journalists were being kept out. They kept saying that there would be a statement made soon, but it had been hours with nothing new.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Startled she looked up.

"Nothing new, yet?" Marilyn asked.

"Nothing, Mom."

Marilyn and Stephen sat down beside her.

"How long are you going to watch?"

"Until Paul kicks me out. If you guys got TV out there, I'd watch at home."

"You can't just sit here and watch the 24-hour news," Marilyn said. "They're never going to stop talking about it, whether they have anything to say or not."

"I know."

"There's nothing you can do about it."

"I know that, too."

"All right. We'll sit with you for a while."

Kelly hugged her mother.

"Thanks."

Another half hour of repeated information and finally the promised new stuff came. A man came on and was identified as NCIS Director Leon Vance. She'd heard of him but never seen him.

" _Today, there was a planned attack on NCIS Headquarters on the Washington Navy Yard. They attacked from inside and outside the building with the intention of killing as many federal employees as possible. This was an attack years in the making, but I am happy to say that they failed. In an orchestrated counterattack, NCIS, in conjunction with the FBI, was able to repel them. Some of the attackers were killed, but there was no loss of life on our side. There were some injuries but no fatalities. There will be more details to come. I will not be answering any questions at this time."_

Then, Vance walked away, ignoring all the shouting reporters.

" _That's more information than we've been given up to now, Matthias. We have seen some sign of people leaving the Yard, finally, but none of them are talking to reporters. One would only say that she wanted to get home to her family. This has been a major source of chaos for the Metro area. The Red line has been closed. M Street is only now allowing traffic to come through. Whatever the details are, it was clearly a big deal, and you heard it from Director Vance, this was a planned attack."_

" _Thank you, Tanya. I'm sure you'll keep us updated as more details come in. This is Matthias Terreton with ZNN, keeping you informed on the attempted ambush of NCIS Headquarters."_

Kelly sat back with a sigh of relief.

"No one was killed at NCIS."

"That means that all you have to do now is wait, knowing that Tim is still alive," Marilyn said. "For now, let's go home."

Kelly nodded. She stood and looked at Paul who was standing in the doorway with a knowing look on his face. She smiled.

"I'm going home."

He smiled back. "Good. Try to sleep."

"I will."

Then, it was back to the farm. Even if she didn't know everything that was going on, at least, she knew something.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was sitting in the room that had been assigned to Tim for the time being. It was very quiet. Tim was asleep. Even Naomi was dozing beside him. Tony was also asleep. He'd taken the fold-out chair and was added a soft snore to the ambience of the small room. Ducky felt very awake himself, too awake to sleep whether at home or at NCIS or here. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. A week ago, Tim's whereabouts were still unknown. They had thought he was still a prisoner or dead. A few days ago, Tim had agreed to come back. Just this afternoon, the people who had taken him had tried to implement their plan and, if Tim hadn't remembered what he did, they might have succeeded. People might have died.

Because of Tim, they hadn't. Yes, it had taken some very quick planning to fight back, but they wouldn't have realized the need for it if Tim hadn't been able to force himself to remember. Now, the question was what would happen next. Would Tim begin to remember more? Would he be able to deal with all the other memories that he could have? Would he be able to tolerate being back at NCIS when keeping it safe and secure had led to so much pain?

So many questions and no answers right now.

The questions kept him awake because he knew better than to expect an answer. He just wanted one.

He suspected that, at this late hour, there would be others, perhaps in the waiting room, who would also be wanting to see Tim and know what the future had in store for him.

There were a lot of people who would want to know that, including Tim himself, more than likely.

For a long time, Ducky was the only one awake in the room, but then, he heard a soft sound. Even with Tony's occasional snores, it was a sound that stood out. He looked over at the bed and saw Tim lying there with his eyes open. He was staring at Ducky. He had shifted from asleep to awake so smoothly that only the slight inhalation had clued Ducky in, and he didn't know how long Tim had been awake.

"Timothy, how are you feeling?" Ducky asked, keeping his voice very low.

Tim shrugged. His eyes shifted around to Naomi and then, to Tony.

"He's alright?" Tim whispered.

"Yes. He's fine. He has stitches but it was only a graze, nothing deeper." And again, it was thanks to Tim that it wasn't any worse.

"Good."

The silence fell again. Ducky tried to ascertain what Tim was feeling, but it was almost impossible. Tim was revealing nothing. He'd spoken all of three words.

"Timothy?"

"Gibbs said that they got them."

"Yes."

"But not all of them?"

"Probably not. It's unlikely that we could expect to have them all, but we got many of them, and dealt a heavy psychological blow."

"What do you mean?"

"They failed, fully and completely. Nothing they did succeeded. That's difficult for people who depend on success to take. Those who might be on the fence about it will likely reconsider their allegiance. All in all, we have likely broken this group up. It's difficult to say, but we also now know about them and they'll be people we watch for. A lot of good came out of this."

"At what cost?" Tim asked.

"A very high and painful cost. Only you can decide if the good outweighs the horror."

"I don't know if it did."

"I don't blame you."

Another long silence.

"I remembered Lara. Agent Miller. I got in the car. I looked at her, and I knew who she was. No one told me. I just knew."

Ducky was surprised.

"Really. May I ask how much further it goes?"

"I don't know. I'm not trying to remember."

Ducky didn't have to ask why. Tim's memories had been almost-uniformly horrific. He didn't blame him for wanting to stay away from them, but if he stayed away for too long, he could lose much of his life.

"What if they're not there?" Tim asked. "What if it's only..."

"It's not. Lara has nothing to do with that."

"I can't take it," Tim said. His eyes filled with tears and he took a shaky breath. "I just can't do it, Ducky. It's so... I can't face it all. It's too much. I don't want to remember."

He seemed ashamed by the feeling, but it was so understandable. Tim was still dealing with the trauma of six months of torture that he remembered better than the years of living that had come before it. He had the chaos of returning to a life he'd forgotten, the stress of trying to help people he didn't know, the fear of being taken again. Even the prospect of remembering the good things was simply one more overwhelming experience. Now that the immediate danger was over, he was giving in to the emotional exhaustion, and he deserved to.

"Timothy, right now, you don't need to justify yourself to anyone. All you need to do is help yourself. Whatever will help, do it...although I do hope that you'll let us know what you decide, even if you have your mother tell us. We want what's best, and if that means that you leave here, we will have to support you in that."

"Will you?" Tim asked.

"We'll certainly _try_. I can't promise success. We do want you back here, but if that isn't something you can manage, it would be unfair to push for it."

Before any more could be said, Naomi woke up and saw that Tim was awake. She hugged him gently.

"Are you feeling any more settled than you were?"

"A little," Tim said.

"Good. They said that they wanted to have you talk to a psychiatrist while you're here. Do you mind?"

"No."

"Okay. For now, Tim, don't worry about us. Just deal with what you can deal with. If anyone gets too pushy, let me know. I'll stop them."

She would, too, Ducky could tell. That was no empty statement. It was the truth. Naomi would protect her family, no matter what it took. Even with all the rest of the pain he had to deal with, Ducky was glad to see that Tim seemed willing to lean on his mother. Incomplete memories or not, he recognized the feeling of safety and love she offered him. Perhaps family could transcend mere memories.

Whatever came next, Ducky figured that Tim would want to be with his family, whether that was permanent or temporary.

Perhaps, after some time, he would remember his work family as well.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

The next time Tim woke up, his mother wasn't there and Ducky wasn't there. Tim assumed he was alone. In a way, that was a relief. After the pressure he'd felt at NCIS, to have no one around was nice.

It was strange, but after all his efforts to remember things, Tim was now trying to avoid remembering anything. It didn't matter whether he did now. The bad guys were caught...more or less. He knew his mother, at least, even if he couldn't quite summon up an image of his father and sister. He had almost remembered his team and knew that they'd been looking for him.

All in all, at this point, he didn't think he wanted to know any more than that. He couldn't imagine that knowing more would make him feel any better. In fact, just thinking about trying to remember more than he had already made him feel tired. He'd moved beyond fear now. He was tired. Too tired to face anything. He had the spine of a limp, wet dishrag. He didn't care if it made him weak. He didn't care if the people he had known didn't like it. In fact, he didn't want to care about anything or anyone ever again, caring had put him in this position.

He opened his eyes and stared at the hospital ceiling. Empty. That was what he wanted to feel and it was what he had. He was fine with that.

"Tim?"

Tim sat up abruptly and turned toward the voice. Tony was sitting on a chair near the door. Tim hadn't realized he was still in the room.

"Tony. What are you doing here?"

"Being here. That's what Gibbs told me to do and I haven't been relieved of that duty yet; so here I am."

Tim saw the stitches which only served to remind him of what had happened the day before.

"Personally, I think he's just trying to keep me away from the Yard," Tony said with a grin that Tim could tell was more than a little forced. "He knows I'm trying to save up my sick days."

Tim couldn't think of anything to say. ...so he said nothing. Tony's smile faded.

"And I wanted to thank you, Tim."

"Why?"

"Because you saved my life."

"You saved mine, first," Tim said. "I told you that I didn't want them to get me again, and you stopped him. I was frozen. I couldn't move. You saved me."

Strangely enough, even though Tim said the words, he felt nothing, not even gratitude as such. It was weird because he knew that he should.

"It's the least I could do...after everything else."

Tim nodded, not because he necessarily agreed, but because he didn't want Tony to say anything else. All things considered, he didn't think there was anything Tony could do or say that would make him feel better than the emptiness was.

"Anyway, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. I just wanted to say thanks is all. ...and I'll be here as long as you need someone here."

"Okay."

"Do you want me to stay?"

Tim thought about it. Did he want Tony there? He didn't really want to be alone, but he didn't want to talk and he didn't want to think. He didn't want Tony to talk, either. He just wanted silence.

"Yes, but not talking."

Tony smiled. "I can manage that, I think."

Tim lay back down, choosing to take Tony at his word. He didn't want to talk. Or think. Or feel. Just existing was enough for the moment. It was enough and it was hard enough.

When Naomi came back later, she took him to see a shrink for the first time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Two days later..._

"Tim, you know how all this works, by now."

Tim nodded.

"I'm here to help you, and if you want to leave all your past behind, I'm not going to force you to try to remember it. I'm trying to help you ease back into life, whatever form it takes."

"I know."

"So you tell me what you want. No judgment. Just help."

Tim sighed. "I don't want anything, right now. I can't think of anything I want. I feel empty and that's a good thing."

To Tim's surprise, his therapist, Dr. Taylor, just smiled.

"After months of the extremes, Tim, I don't blame you for wanting relief from them. What you need to understand is that there's nothing unusual about that. It will take time to deal with everything that happened and if you need to build up your strength..."

"I don't want to."

"Right now, you don't," Dr. Taylor corrected. "Have you remembered anything new?"

"Not really."

"Which means?"

Tim shrugged. "I'm trying not to remember but things don't feel as strange as they did before. It's not as scary. The memories could be there. I'm just holding them away."

He said it without expression. He knew that he shouldn't be resisting them, now. He just didn't care. Before, he hadn't been able to bring them forward out of fear. Now, he just didn't want them.

"That's good."

Tim scoffed a little. "Is it?"

"That there's the feeling of improvement? Yes. Tim, I'd like to ask you a question, all right?"

"Okay."

"Why are you trying _not_ to remember if things aren't as scary, now?"

"Because everything leads me back to the last six months," Tim said softly. "Every little thing. Then, I'm back there again. I'm tired of it. I'd rather remember nothing."

"Maybe you should think about getting away from DC, then. It might give you the peace you need. Go visit your family. I understand your father is still up in Ohio?"

"That's what my mom said, but she said he'd be coming here when he could."

"Are you afraid of that, too?"

"Yes."

"Enough that you don't want to do it?"

"Do you think it'll be easier?"

"Yes. While you're here, you have the people you were trying to protect, the building, the questions. If you go to Ohio, you'll restrict your memories to the time before you started working at NCIS. You should continue getting therapy, wherever you are. I can give you some suggestions."

"I'll think about it," Tim said. Going home didn't really appeal to him, either. He needed to get away from his whole life, not just a part of it. He needed to get away and have a chance to think about what he really wanted, now that he wasn't going to be called upon to do anything else.

As he left the office, a thought began to take shape. He started back to the room he'd been given. He didn't know if his staying here was a problem for the hospital, but he was glad to put off the additional feeling of desolation that had come over him the first time he'd gone back to his apartment.

"Tim?"

Tim stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Gibbs. He kept walking.

"Hello, Gibbs. What do you want?"

"Would you talk to me?"

"About what?" Tim asked, feeling more than a little wary about the possibilities.

"About the fact that you're ready to leave DC."

Tim stopped and turned back, shocked. He'd only just started thinking about it himself. How had Gibbs known? He couldn't think of anything to say.

"Can we talk?" Gibbs asked.

Tim found himself nodding slowly. In silence, they walked back to Tim's room. When they got there, Tim sat on one of the chairs. The bed was the main piece of furniture in the room, but Tim didn't want to have the disadvantage of seeming like a patient. Gibbs sat across from him on another chair.

At first, neither of them spoke, but Tim knew that this was normal for Gibbs. He didn't pursue that knowledge. It was just there. And it meant that he didn't feel a need to break the silence. He would let Gibbs say what he had come to say.

"You're ready to leave," Gibbs said, finally.

"How did you know?" Tim asked. He couldn't deny it.

"You're thinking that there's nothing here worth trying to remember," Gibbs continued without answering directly. "You did what you had to do. You fought through all the pain to get at what you know you had to remember. Even through your own pain and fear, you knew that the person you were had to save the day if it was possible... because you'd seen too often what happened when it wasn't. Once you did that, all you had was the exhaustion from having done more than you could do. You can't deal with what staying here will require. So you've got to leave to find somewhere that will let you avoid all that."

If Gibbs had been able to read his mind, Tim could hardly have explained it better.

"How do you know all that?"

"I went to Mexico."

Unbidden, Tim remembered. Gibbs walking away from them, leaving them adrift until they found their footing again under Tony's leadership. Then, his sudden return.

"You came back," Tim said.

"Yes."

"But you left."

"Yes."

"What are you saying, then?"

"It's okay to leave. Just know that you can come back," Gibbs said, sounding almost earnest which seemed strange. "And when you go, don't leave yourself alone. Let people help you."

"Did you?"

"I had Mike."

"Who?"

"Mike Franks. He gave me a place to run to, a place to hide as long as I needed it. You have a place like that."

"I do?"

"Montana. The Hoopes farm."

The temptation to go back there was so strong that Tim almost got up to leave right then. Tim knew he would have got to them himself, but having Gibbs suggest it made it more legitimate somehow.

"If you need to go, then, do it."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm your boss and I know how it feels."

"You're not going to tell me to come back?"

"No. I don't have the right."

"So?"

Gibbs laughed a little.

"What I want is for you to have the chance to get over this. That matters more than a job, no matter what the job is."

For the first time in days, Tim felt something.

Relief.

"Thank you."

"Can I make one suggestion?"

"What?"

"The memories will come back. Let them."

"Why should I?"

"Because what you'd be giving up is too important for you to lose."

"How do you know?"

"Because you are more than the last eight months of your life. And if you let that destroy everything else, they've won."

"They haven't already?"

"No. They've lost. You stopped them. In spite of everything they did to break you down and destroy you, you stopped them. Don't let them win by resisting what will come back."

Tim couldn't commit to that, not right now. To his surprise, Gibbs didn't push. He just stood up.

"Oh, and tell someone when you go, because even if you can't care about us, we care about you."

Tim nodded.

Then, Gibbs left. Tim sat where he was.

What now?

He was still sitting there an hour later when Naomi came to visit.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

She came in.

"Your father is here. Will you see him?"

Tim nodded. That took no thought at all. He knew his father was important to him. He couldn't say no. If Naomi was surprised, she didn't show it. She just left the room. In the few seconds that she was gone, Tim made a decision. It didn't change whether or not he saw his father, but it did make a difference as to what he'd say.

The door opened and a man in a wheelchair came in alone. For a few seconds, there was silence. They looked at each other.

"Your mother thought that we should talk alone, first. Your sister tends to bring a little frenetic energy when she's worried."

"And she's been worried?" Tim asked.

"Oh, yes. She's been worried about you ever since you first disappeared, but then, with my problems..."

"What happened to you?"

"Blood clot in my leg where I couldn't feel it."

"Oh."

Tim could see well enough that his father was only barely recovering from something serious.

Another silence, but for some reason, it didn't feel awkward at all. It was just silence.

"I'll just ask. Tim, do you remember me?"

"Yes," Tim said. "I knew that you were paralyzed. I knew that it was from my accident. I knew that you tried to commit suicide, but I saw you."

"But do you actually remember?" Sam asked, shrewdly. "Those are just events, just things. Am I someone you really remember or just moments?"

Tim looked at his father. Who was he? Did he really _know_? He'd resisted his memories, but he couldn't do that with his father. There was too much that he could _feel_ about him. It wasn't really about memories. There was something Tim knew deep inside. This was his _father_.

"You're my father," Tim said, finally. It wasn't much to say, but it encapsulated everything that Tim was thinking and feeling.

Sam rolled his wheelchair closer to Tim. Then, he leaned over and hugged Tim tightly.

"And you're my son. And I love you, Tim. Like Friedrich von Schiller said, 'It is not flesh and blood, but heart which makes us fathers and sons.'"

Tim hugged him back, taking comfort in that feeling and having relief that he wasn't being pushed to remember more.

Then, Sam let him go and gave him an intense stare.

"You have something to tell us, don't you."

"Yes."

"Then, let's get your mother and sister in here and you can tell us all at once. You'll have to let Sarah be happy to see you, first."

Tim nodded.

"Good."

Sam rolled to the door and opened it. Naomi came in, followed hesitantly by a younger woman. She had a lot of brown, curly hair.

"Sarah."

Sarah nodded. She didn't move. Tim wondered what Naomi had said to her.

"I know who you are, Sarah," he said. "I don't remember everything, yet, but I do know who you are."

Sarah walked over to him and hugged him tightly.

"I'm so glad you're alive, Tim."

"I think I am, too."

She let him go and sat on the bed.

"Tim has something to tell us," Sam said.

"What is it?" Naomi asked.

"I...I'm going back to Montana."

There was stunned silence for a moment.

"Why?" Naomi asked.

"Because I can't deal with this right now. It's too hard. I need to leave, get away from all of it. If I go to Montana, I know people there, but they're not from my past. That's what I need."

"We were hoping you would come to Ohio for a while," Sam said.

"Maybe...but not now," Tim said. "I'm sorry."

"No," Sam said. "No, you don't have to be sorry, Tim. You know what you need."

"Is this permanent?" Sarah asked, almost in a whisper.

"I can't think that far ahead," Tim said.

"How will you get there?"

"I don't know," Tim said, honestly. "I only decided just before you came."

"Okay. We'll support you in this, Tim," Naomi said. "Whatever you need."

"Could you tell Agent Gibbs for me?" Tim asked.

"Of course."

"Thanks."

The silence was heavy but not awkward. Somehow, as much meaning as the silence held, it wasn't oppressive. They all knew there was a lot to say, but that didn't mean it had to be said right then.

After a few minutes, Tim got up and walked over to the bed. He sat beside Sarah, put an arm around her and then leaned against her and closed his eyes.

"It's too much and I can't deal with it," he said. "Instead of feeling like I exist in a void, I feel like I exist under a huge, suffocating weight. Before, I couldn't even touch my memories; now, I'm afraid that remembering them all will crush me. I don't know which feeling is worse."

Sarah leaned on him and he had a moment, a memory of comforting her when she was crying. This time, he was the one needing comfort, and she gave it to him.

Then, there was another weight on the bed and another pair of arms around him.

"If that's what you need, then, we'll do whatever it takes to get you back there. However long you need to stay, stay there. Just don't keep us from knowing how you're doing. If you can only do email, then, do that, but let us know."

"I will," Tim said. "I promise."

There was just silence again for a long time. Then, without opening his eyes, Tim spoke once more.

"Thank you."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Gibbs sat at his desk, staring at Tim's empty desk. He hadn't wanted to tell Tim to leave, but he knew that Tim, amnesia or not, would feel like he needed permission to go even when he desperately needed to. He couldn't, in good conscience, let him suffer any more than he had already.

"Boss?"

He didn't like talking about his own experience with amnesia, either. Finding out about his family dying for the second time had felt like someone reached into his chest and ripped out his heart. The worst moment in his life and he'd had to go through it twice.

"Gibbs?"

That was why he'd let Tim leave.

"Hey, Boss?"

Gibbs looked away from the empty desk and all the pain it represented and over at Tony and Ellie who were both looking a little concerned.

"Yeah?"

Tony glanced at Ellie.

"Is everything all right, Boss?"

"Yeah."

"Then, what–?"

Gibbs' phone rang. He looked away from them and at his phone.

"Gibbs."

" _Hello, Agent Gibbs. This is Naomi McGee."_

"Hello, Mrs. McGee. He's going, isn't he."

" _How did you know?"_

"I already told him he could."

" _He asked–?"_

"No, but he would have felt like he had to."

" _Could you help him get there, then? I don't know if he could manage a commercial flight right now, but I don't want to trust him driving, either...and it's us he's getting away from, at least, in part."_

"It's us, too."

" _I know. I hoped you might...know someone."_

"I'll see what I can do."

" _Thank you. Whatever you can do."_

Gibbs hung up. He could see the looks he was getting and decided to answer the question they weren't asking.

"McGee is going back to Montana...for now."

"Why?" Tony asked.

"Because it's too much for him to take all at once," Ellie said, unexpectedly.

Tony raised his eyebrows at her.

"I saw him when he came back, when he brought you to the bullpen. He was already farther than he could go, but he pushed on and did even more. Torture isn't like other kinds of trauma. It's designed to destroy while still leaving the person alive. Kill the soul and leave the body behind. It takes time to recover from things like that."

"And you know this because...?"

Ellie raised an eyebrow. "What do you think I was doing at the NSA, Tony? Playing tiddlywinks? We had to learn about this stuff...and I hated it, but I know about it."

"Will he come back?" Tony asked.

"Eventually," Gibbs said.

"When?"

"When he's ready."

"Are you going to take him? Is that what his mom wanted?"

"No. She wanted help getting him out there."

"What are you going to do?" Ellie asked. "We don't have a private plane."

Gibbs looked at them and then made a decision. He'd had months of not being able to do anything. That wasn't the case, now.

"I'm going to owe someone a favor," he said and got up from his desk. As he left the bullpen, he pulled out his phone. "Tobias, I need your help."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _One day later..._

Fornell wasn't in the habit of making life difficult for himself. It was hard enough already. However, he also believed in doing what he could..and if he had Gibbs owing him, so much the better. They would help each other out as needed, but a favor meant that Fornell could dictate when. That was always nice.

Now, as he headed for the room Tim had been staying in at the hospital, he thought about the situation. Gibbs hadn't said much (no surprise there), but it was clear that Tim's recovery wasn't going smoothly. It wasn't a surprise, given everything that had happened, but it really was too bad.

He knocked on the door.

"Come in."

That was a tired voice. Not from physical exhaustion but from psychological.

He walked in. Tim was sitting on the bed alone, with a packed bag beside him.

"No entourage?" Fornell asked.

Tim just shook his head and stood up. Ready to go.

Fornell led him out of the hospital and to his car. He drove to the airport where the FBI plane was waiting for them. They got on board and Tim sat down. He hadn't said anything. Fornell debated beginning a conversation but decided to let Tim make that decision. He had plenty to do; so the first half of the flight was uneventful.

Then, to his surprise, Tim walked over to him and sat down.

"Agent Fornell?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think this is wrong?"

"What?"

"What I'm doing. Leaving my whole life behind and hiding on a farm."

"Why ask me?"

"You're here. You're doing all this for me. Gibbs said it was fine, but he would because he did the same thing. My family just wants me to be normal. I know that I know you, but you don't have any vested in interest in what I do."

"What if I said it was?"

Tim shrugged. "I don't know."

Fornell smiled.

"Well, I don't. I think that you've done enough for everyone else. You can do this for yourself." Fornell hesitated and then just decided to ask. "Do you _want_ to remember, eventually? I know you don't, right now, but is coming here just a way to cut off any ties you might still have with your old life?"

Tim looked around the plane and then out the window and then back at Fornell.

"I don't know," he said, finally. "I don't belong in Montana. I already know that. I knew that before I remembered anything at all. I just don't care that I don't belong because whether I should be there or not, I know they'll _let_ me be there."

"It's good to have a place like that," Fornell said.

Tim nodded. Then, apparently, that much conversation exhausted him and he went back to his seat and said nothing else for the rest of the flight.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Vance grimaced as he hung up the phone. He'd been getting no end of grief since people had found out that he had _allowed_ Tim to leave DC. They were clamoring for more information, even though Tim couldn't tell them about the structure of the group, how many were in it. They wanted to ask just to be sure, and how dare the director of NCIS put his agent out of reach of all the greedy politicians.

The takedown wasn't the media circus it could have been simply because the only people who had died were the bad guys. There were injuries, of course, and the media was playing on that, but the attack had been thwarted. No one had been killed in the building...except for the mole. That still irked Vance, even though he knew that he'd had nothing to do with the hiring of a janitor. The man had no criminal record. None. Nothing to raise any red flags when he'd applied. That was why it had worked. Still, it _felt_ like a failure. Vetting existed for a reason. It was supposed to keep out people like this.

The investigation would be going on for months. Charges would be filed and the trials would drag on for years. All in all, even with a successful counterattack, this attempt to take down NCIS headquarters had resulted in a long-term headache.

Still, Vance knew that he'd bowed to heavy pressure before, but he didn't have to this time. He knew that the only reason for Tim's presence would be to put him in front of the cameras and show how amazing the feds were because this man had put his life on the line to save so many. That would produce nothing of substance and would probably do more harm than good to Tim himself.

The door opened without a knock.

"I know you know how to knock, Gibbs," Vance said. "I'm busy."

"Tim's on his way to Montana. His stay is indefinite."

"I'm glad he's making the trip, and I'd already made arrangements for him to have time off as long as necessary," Vance said, making a show of looking through the papers on his desk. "Anything else?"

"Thanks for letting him go."

Vance looked up.

"I don't recall anyone asking for _my_ permission."

"You know what I mean. You could have made it difficult, and you didn't. Tim really needs this. If he's going to heal enough to come back, he has to have time."

"Is he going to have therapy out there?"

"From what I understand, yes. It's been arranged."

"Do you think he'll come back?"

"Yes."

"You hope or you really think that?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"Well, it's the least I could do, all things considered. This is a mess, and some of it couldn't be stopped, but some of it could have. Agent McGee's actions saved a lot of people. He's not going to be punished for that. You need any extra help?"

"No. We're fine."

"You sure?"

"We've been fine so far."

"How are the others taking his leaving?"

"Badly, but they understand that it's what he needs."

Vance nodded.

"Keep me updated. I hope he finds what he needs."

"So does he."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The plane began its descent. Fornell looked at Tim. Even now, when they were almost to where he wanted to be, he showed no real interest. He just looked tired. That was something Fornell hoped would go away. Tim didn't remember him, but Fornell knew that Tim didn't deserve to feel this way.

The plane came to a stop.

"We're here," Fornell said.

Tim nodded and stood up. He walked to the door and got off the plane. Then, there was a flicker of expression. A moment where he smiled with relief at the man waiting for him.

"Hey, John... Tim. Sorry."

"It's all right, Paul."

"I'm your ride to the farm. You need to do anything before you go?"

Tim looked back at Fornell, a strange look of pleading in his eyes, as if he was afraid that this chance would be taken from him at the last second. For just a moment, Fornell couldn't figure out why Tim would think that was a possibility, but then, if he'd been tortured, he could have thought he was free multiple times only to feel the pain again.

"Go on, kid," Fornell said, feeling almost paternal. "Do you what you need to do."

"Thanks."

Then, Tim walked away with Paul. Fornell watched him go, hoping against all hope that this would lead him to healing and not just to hiding. He deserved that.

Then, Fornell headed off to check with the FBI team investigating out here. That was the excuse for coming back to Montana; so he'd better do _something_. As he walked toward his rental, he pulled out his phone.

"Hey, Gibbs. He made it. He's here."


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

 _One week later..._

Tim walked out of the house, early in the morning and started walking along the canal. He had no particular destination, but then, he saw Kelly. She must have awakened early, too. She'd been out with the cattle for the first few days he'd been back. Then, there had been so much to do that they hadn't really had time to talk. She'd hugged him and told him how glad she was that he was all right, but not much beyond that.

Besides that, Tim wasn't doing much talking. He was so relieved to be back that he hadn't said much to anyone. They had let him keep to himself and hadn't asked any questions. This was one of the things that made being here so nice. He had to talk to the psychiatrist, but he didn't have to talk to anyone else if he didn't want to.

...except for Kelly. They did need to talk and they'd both been avoiding it.

"Kelly?" he called out.

She stopped and turned around. Then, she smiled at him and walked toward him.

"You're up early," she said.

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling? Any better?"

"Sometimes. It helps to know that I'm here because I want to be."

"But do you really?" she asked, her voice gentle. "I don't think you do. I think you want to hide and this was the most convenient place."

They started to walk down the road together.

"I did want to come back," Tim said after a few seconds. "But I wanted to hide, too."

"How long are you going to hide?"

"I don't know."

They sat down on the bank of the canal and stared at the water, not looking at each other. Tim didn't know what Kelly was thinking. He was thinking about what was possible and what was just a dream.

"Tim, I did want to thank you."

Tim laughed. "For what? I haven't done anything but make everyone's lives difficult."

"You helped me by getting me to leave. It made me see how much I wanted to come back." Kelly took a breath. "Tim, I know that you're not ready to face it right now, but that _is_ your life back there. That's where you belong. It's not out here. I actually wish it was."

"You do?"

They looked at each other.

"Yes, but really, we both know that it's not what will happen." Kelly took his hand and squeezed it. "Right now, I'm not in a position to want it, and you're not in a position to deal with it. You need your life, and you can't get it here. I need mine and this is where it is. If nothing else, going to DC really showed me that."

"You're saying no."

"Yeah, I guess I am."

Tim nodded. It didn't have the sting he might have expected, actually. Kelly didn't let go of his hand. She scooted closer to him.

"I care about you, Tim. I can't tell you how afraid I was for you when I heard about the attack on NCIS, how relieved I was when I found out you were safe. I do care about you."

Tim heard it in her voice. In reality, he understood. Their situations were such that they were pulled to different places. Even now, in his heart of hearts, he knew he couldn't stay here forever.

"I know what you mean," he said.

"I wish things were different."

"So do I."

"But this place will always be open for you. No matter what. No matter when. You can always come here."

They were silent for a while, not moving. Just sitting together.

"You said that this is where you belonged. Why did you go into business, why go to Chicago?" Tim asked.

"Because...for a while, I needed to get away. I needed to escape."

"Why?"

Kelly took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"We don't have any of the pictures out now, although you could see her if you looked in the right places. I have a picture of her in my room. Mom keeps all the old family photos in the den. She's in them, but I don't blame you if you didn't notice. You've had more than enough to worry about."

"Who?"

"My twin. Elizabeth Lyn. Something happened before we were born and I got the nourishment and she didn't. She was small, stunted. The doctors told my parents that she could live a day or a month or for years. They just couldn't say, but she'd never be normal. She lived for 13 years. When she died, I was old enough to understand what had happened. I grew up knowing that I was normal because she wasn't. She never walked. She never talked. My mom was changing her diapers until the day Lizzie died. It was like taking care of a doll, but I loved her. I always felt like I knew what she wanted, when she wanted it, like we had a special language, a special connection that no one else had. And then, she died and I felt like it was my fault, like I had somehow intentionally kept her from what she needed before we were born."

"That's impossible."

"Logically, I know that, and my parents tried to get through to me, but in the end, the only thing I could do was run away, just like you. Run away from the place I belonged to try to find a new place, other people I could connect with, care about. And hope that I could leave all that behind. I missed home, but I didn't come back very often. ...and when I met Robert, my ex-boyfriend, I felt like there was something more for me. It was so hard to decide to report what he'd been doing and even harder to see how thoroughly he hated me afterward. It's understandable, I guess, but it's not easy. I'd lost another person I cared about, and I had to run away again...back home."

Kelly sighed.

"What you don't realize, Tim, is how hard it was to come back here and then, to leave again. ...but it's what I needed and I might never have done it without you. What I want you to do is find what _you_ need. ...and no matter what it is, we'll always be here to support you. And when you don't need support anymore, we'll be your friends."

"That could be taken as a very clever way of saying we'll just be friends," Tim said, actually feeling like he could smile a little bit.

Kelly chuckled. "We can be friends, Tim, but we'll never be _just_ friends."

Kelly gave Tim a side hug and Tim leaned against her. Somehow, this conversation really hadn't changed anything. He still felt as comfortable with Kelly as he had before. Talking had cleared the air, but it hadn't changed how they felt.

Maybe there really had been a possibility for something more between them, but life dictated something else. Tim knew he'd have to leave at some point and Kelly had decided she had to stay.

...but he didn't have to leave. Not yet. While he didn't have the fear of the void that he'd had before, he wasn't ready to face the rest of the world.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Two weeks later..._

It was late in the afternoon, almost evening. Things were starting to calm down and get back to normal.

Sort of.

Tony hated looking over at the empty desk. He had hated it for eight months and it was almost worse now because Tim _should_ be back at his desk, but he wasn't.

He was in Montana.

Because the memories of this place were too much for him.

Tony couldn't really blame Tim for feeling that way, but it was terrible, and the worst of it was that he couldn't do anything to make it better. First, Ziva. Now, Tim. Ziva was never coming back. Tony had tried calling the number she had used before and got no answer. So wherever Ziva had gone, she hadn't taken the number with her. Tim could be coming back or he could not. Gibbs seemed to think he would. So did Ducky. Abby spent her time flipping between feeling confident that Tim would be back and fearing he never would.

So, as it was, now, he could only look at the empty desk and wish that things were better. They _were_ in a lot of ways, but if they were _really_ better for Tim, he'd be back.

"Have you finished your report?"

Tony jumped a little and looked up. Ellie was looking at him with that questioning expression she had. It was like she was silently asking permission to get serious, wondering if she should just stay quiet.

"Yeah. I finished," Tony said.

"You're waiting for him to decide to come back, aren't you."

So she decided to get serious.

"Yeah."

"And you're afraid he won't."

"Yeah."

"Ducky thinks he will, and Ducky's the psychology guy."

"Ducky's not perfect. Everyone makes mistakes," Tony muttered.

"Yes, they do. Tony."

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"And whatever mistakes you might have made back then don't make this your fault now."

"I didn't say they did."

Ellie smiled. "You didn't have to."

Tony smiled a little and then sighed and looked at the desk again.

"After everything that he went through, I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to give up everything here. What good did it do him?"

Ellie said nothing. She didn't need to. Tony was mostly just saying the things that he hadn't said before.

"Why him? From everything we've found out, it seems like it could have been any one of us. All they wanted was an agent. Why him?"

"Why _not_ him?"

"Because he didn't deserve it!" Tony said, angrily.

"No one else would have, either. No one deserves what happened to Tim. It was terrible. ...but it was going to happen to someone, and they picked Tim. It's not right, but asking _why him_ doesn't help. All it would have taken was one day when they were making the decision and Tim was the one they saw."

Tony deflated. He knew that what she was saying was right, but it didn't make it any easier.

"I want things to go back to normal, but even if he comes back, it won't be. You don't get back to normal after something like that. It'll be different."

"Probably, but that doesn't _have_ to be a bad thing."

"It will be for Tim. He'll always have this, now. Something like this happened to Ziva a few years ago, and things changed. Some things were better, but _that_ was always worse."

"People recover from torture, Tony. They do. If they get help, people can recover. No, they don't forget it, and it's always there, but they don't have to suffer from it forever."

Finally, Tony admitted the thing that bothered him the most.

"I can't do anything," he said. "Nothing. I just have to wait and see if Tim decides to come back or not."

"Maybe you'll think of something," Ellie said. "Don't forget that there's no special time limit. Tim has as much time as he needs."

"Yeah."

Ellie actually patted him on the shoulder and then walked back to her desk. Ziva's desk. Kate's desk. As different as they all were, there was someone to replace each one. Tim's desk was empty.

He just didn't want it to stay that way.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

 _Two weeks later..._

Tim carried his plate to the sink and then left the kitchen, heading for the barn to milk the cows. He hadn't said anything beyond thanking Marilyn for breakfast. He had told her many times how much he'd missed her cooking. After he was gone, Marilyn raised an eyebrow Stephen.

Stephen took a breath and nodded. They'd been talking about this last night, and Marilyn had suggested that Stephen might be able to help Tim face things. Stephen had protested, given his own situation and how everything had panned out, but Marilyn had insisted.

So he was going to try it.

He walked out into the yard and then, slowed down a little. He didn't talk about what had happened in college much. In fact, he probably hadn't said anything since Marilyn had showed up here and refused to leave. Not even his parents had ever really known more than a little bit.

Still, it was important, and Tim needed to hear it, even if Marilyn had already told him the broad strokes.

He walked into the barn and watched quietly for a few minutes. Tim had already got one of the cows into the stanchion and was milking. He wasn't as fast as Kelly was, but he was pretty confident in the motions. It could easily be assumed that this was all he needed, but Stephen knew better. Even more important, so did Tim.

He walked over to the cow.

"You've got that down. If you want to try horses again..."

Tim actually smiled up at him.

"Not in a million years."

"I figured."

"What is it?"

"We need to have a chat, but I'll let you finish milking, first. The cows can't wait."

Tim's smile didn't fade. He gestured.

"Feel free to help."

Stephen smiled back. It was amazing how much the smile transformed Tim's face.

"I can do that. Haven't milked the cows in a long time."

He went and got another cow and pushed it into the other stanchion. Then, he pulled up a stool and started milking. The motions of a lifetime of work came back with incredible ease. For the next little while, Tim and Stephen milked in silence together. They only had a few milk cows; so the task didn't take too long. Stephen was gratified to find that he could still go faster than Tim. It would be a bad sign if he couldn't outmilk a greenhorn.

They took the milk into the house. Marilyn took it and shooed them away.

"Let's go out to the pasture," Stephen suggested. "We have a sick calf I need to check."

"Okay."

They started walking toward the pasture. Most of the cattle were out grazing, but they had a few that were nearer the barn. Like this sick calf. Stephen knew he was postponing the conversation, but he also didn't mind walking in silence.

As they walked, though, he knew he needed to start this conversation. Tim didn't know what it was going to be about.

"Marilyn told me that she mentioned some of my problems in college."

Tim glanced at him and then, looked forward again.

"Yeah."

"I understand hiding, Tim."

"You seem happy here."

"I am. Doesn't mean that I'm not hiding. She just kept me from hiding as much as I would have."

"Were you really that afraid?"

"Yes. I really was. I didn't even want to leave to go to college. I only did it because my parents insisted. But in high school, I wasn't worried about leaving the farm. I just didn't see any reason to leave. I wasn't afraid to go, but I didn't want to. Then..."

"Marilyn said it was a protest and you were in the wrong place."

"Yeah. I didn't understand it. Actually, even now, I don't know what the protest was about, but the people started getting violent. The jolt I got wasn't even intended for me. I was just in the way. It wasn't debilitating, but it hurt. A lot. I don't know how to describe how I felt in words."

"I understand that."

"Yeah. I'm sure."

They were just walking side by side. Tim wasn't looking at Stephen and Stephen wasn't looking at Tim.

"I was terrified. I called my parents and told them that I didn't want to stay in college. I dropped out. I came back here. Never did finish."

"You were willing to leave Marilyn?"

"Yep. I figured that she wouldn't want me if I left, and I wasn't willing to stay. I couldn't. I was too afraid."

"Do you regret it?"

"No, but if Marilyn hadn't been willing to come here, I would have regretted losing her. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. I resisted at the time, but she saved me in a lot of ways."

"That's what she said, too."

Stephen chuckled.

"Yep. She knows what I needed, but I tried to tell her not to give up her life for me. I wasn't going to change. _She_ would have to, and I didn't want her to give up everything that was important to her just for me."

"So...you have a reason for telling me all this, don't you."

"Yeah, I do. I don't like talking about it. I prefer to leave the past in the past. That's the way things should be, but if anyone can understand hiding from the world, I can. In my case, I was lucky. I didn't lose the best thing in my life."

"Your farm?" Tim asked with a bit of a smile.

"No. My wife, but that was because of her, not because of me. I was willing to give her up to stay here. She just wasn't willing to give me up."

Tim nodded. There was another silence.

"Tim, you've been back here for more than a month and we're fine with having you here. I said you were welcome and I meant it...but you shouldn't be like me. Don't let your fear keep you from the life you could have. I know that you don't want to remember because you're afraid it will be too much. I don't blame you. You've already shown a lot more courage than I ever have."

"That's not true. You put your life on the line to save me."

Stephen waved that away.

"That wasn't bravery. That was stubbornness. I don't like people telling me what to do on my land."

"That's not all it was."

"Doesn't matter. Real courage is facing the things that scare you, the things you don't want to face. I don't do that. I wasn't afraid, at least, I wasn't afraid for myself. I was worried about my family, but not myself. You went back and did things you didn't think you could do. That was too much and you came back here again. That's fine, but I don't think you should plan on staying too long. The longer you stay, the harder it will be to leave because it's easy here. I know it, and I chose to take the easy way...as much as my wife would let me."

Tim smiled.

"It worked out for you," he said.

"Yeah, it did. Like I said, I was lucky. Without Marilyn, I would have been the mean, ornery, old cuss everyone avoided. I probably couldn't have kept anyone working for me, and I would have lost what I wanted most."

"I don't know if I _want_ to remember," Tim finally confessed. He didn't know why he could say this to Stephen when he couldn't admit it to his psychiatrist.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know if I can be that person I was before. After all of the things that happened, I'm so...different. I can't imagine remembering and suddenly being the same. How will I be both who I was and who I am?"

Stephen smiled.

"Who says you have to?"

"I..." Tim stopped walking and then looked at Stephen for the first time. "I guess _I_ do."

"Maybe you shouldn't. Instead of thinking you have to somehow go back, maybe you should think about going forward."

"Have you ever thought about getting help?"

"Nope. I'm happy, Tim. Even before all that, when Lyn would talk about going places, I didn't want to. It made me feel sick, but I probably would have forced myself to go...before. Not after. Some people probably think that I'm selfish, but if they knew Marilyn, they'd know that she doesn't give up something unless she's actually willing to do it."

"You're saying that you're happy but that I shouldn't do what you did."

"Exactly."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It does, because you're not me. You're not a farmer. You're not afraid of crowds, strangers, foreign places. What scares you is inside, and you can't get away from that. So you need to deal with it. You've made yourself remember the bad things. Let the good things in."

Tim sighed a little.

"There's that calf," Stephen said, suddenly, and strode ahead.

Tim watched as Stephen expertly examined the calf and made some notes about what it needed. He could see that, agoraphobia or not, Stephen was in his element. This was where he belonged and maybe others would see his staying in this one place his whole life as confinement, but he didn't see any bars. He even acknowledged that they were probably there, but he didn't mind it because he was where he should be.

 _And I'm not_ , Tim thought to himself.

He knew it. He _had_ known it from the moment he came back here. He had known it when he was here before.

He had needed this escape. It had been the right thing for him to do, but staying too long would turn the right thing into the wrong thing.

As he stood there, he hesitantly reached back into his mind for a memory. Not any particular memory, but something that would give him the courage Stephen seemed to think he had.

" _I don't know, Dad. Maybe this is a mistake."_

" _You said that this is what you wanted. I know you weren't lying, Tim."_

" _But now that it's...really happening..."_

" _You're scared."_

" _Yeah."_

" _Edward Vernon Rickenbacker. 'Courage is doing what you're afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared.'"_

 _Tim smiled a little. "'The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Never fear what will become of you, depend on no one. Only the moment you reject all help are you freed.' The Buddha."_

"' _Without courage all virtues lose their meaning.'"_

" _Churchill," Tim said, before Sam could._

" _Of course."_

" _Ralph Waldo Emerson. 'The wise man in the storm prays to God, not for safety from danger, but deliverance from fear.'"_

"' _Success means having the courage, the determination, and the will to become the person you believe you were meant to be.' George Sheehan."_

" _But is this what I'm meant to be?"_

" _Tim, this is what you've wanted for years. You don't give up on something like that right at the finish line."_

" _Pope John XXIII. 'Consult not your fears but your hopes and your dreams. Think not about your frustrations, but about your unfulfilled potential. Concern yourself not with what you tried and failed in, but with what it is still possible for you to do.'"_

" _Exactly, Tim. And there is so much for you to do."_

Tim took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to keep from falling back into the other memories that he still couldn't deal with. He knew what he'd remembered. A quote war with his father.

 _I need to go home,_ he thought.

And that home wasn't his DC home. It was his Ohio home. Where his family was. They had let him come here and dealt with his silence. He needed them, now. Maybe they wouldn't really like that attitude, but he couldn't go back to DC yet. He couldn't stay here. That was what he needed.

He was startled by Stephen clapping him on the shoulder.

"Well, I need to get the vet up here. I think I've got it figured out, but I don't like to lose the calves if I don't have to. We can head back to the house."

Tim nodded.

They walked back together, this time in unbroken silence, although Tim thought Stephen seemed a bit too nonchalant. He probably knew that he'd made Tim think. When they got back, Tim went into the living room and sat down. Kelly came in a few minutes later.

"Can I join you?" she asked.

"Of course."

She sat down and looked searchingly at him.

"You're going back, aren't you."

Tim was surprised.

"Not to DC. Ohio," he said. "How did you know?"

"Because you made a decision. I could tell and that's the only one that really makes sense."

Tim smiled. "Is it?"

"Yes. And you know it, whether you like it or not. ...but I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you. I can't ask you to come this time."

"That's because you don't need it this time."

"Yeah."

Kelly hugged him tightly.

"You have a lot to get back, Tim. Don't worry about me. I'm where I belong."

"Are you sure?"

Kelly sat back and smiled.

"Yes. I am. Maybe things will change, but right now...there's nowhere else I should be."

Tim knew she was right. They sat together until Marilyn called them in for lunch.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

 _Three days later..._

"Sam! You're going to be late if you don't leave right now!"

"Then, it's a good thing I'm leaving right now, isn't it," Sam said.

"Time waits for no man!" Naomi called.

"Quoting is _my_ job!"

"Not if you're late!"

Sam laughed and headed for the door. Naomi drove him to work pretty much every day, but he liked getting out of the house before she did just to claim that he was ready first. In a way, he was trying to prove that he was fully recovered from his last medical crisis.

He pulled open the door and then stopped in surprise.

"Tim. I didn't know you were coming here."

Tim was standing on the sidewalk, staring at the house.

"I knew I was, but I didn't know if I'd remember where it was," Tim said, softly. "I didn't want to have to ask anyone."

"And you didn't?"

Tim shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"How did you get here?"

"I got a ride from the FBI. They were heading back this way and were willing to drop me off."

"Oh."

"I heard you. You have to go to work."

"No, I don't. If you've actually come here, I'm calling Ed and telling him that he needs to take my class today. It's only the one in the morning anyway."

"You don't have to do that," Tim said.

"Yes, I do...because my son is here and I've been hoping he'd come...and afraid that he never would."

"Sam, I thought you were... Tim!"

Tim managed a small smile.

"Hi," he said.

Naomi moved around Sam's chair and walked down to where Tim was standing. His bag was on the ground. How long he'd been standing out there was unknown. He had filled out some in the month he'd been in Montana, but there was still a strained look to him. He just hadn't got through it all yet. Sam didn't really expect him to, but he wished he had.

"Are you going to stay here for a while?" Naomi asked.

"I think so. If that's okay."

"Of course it is, Tim. This is your home."

Tim nodded but looked uncertain. Naomi hugged him, picked up his bag and led him to where Sam was still sitting in his chair.

"Tim, come inside. I'll call Ed," Sam said.

He backed up and rolled into the house. As he headed for the phone, Naomi reached out and stopped him.

"Let me call Ed, Sam," she said, giving him a look.

"Gladly," Sam said. "You're better at schmoozing than I am."

Naomi smiled and shooed them into the living room.

Tim walked beside him, looking around.

"I have to ask, Tim. Is it familiar?"

Tim nodded, but he seemed afraid of it.

"What's wrong?"

Tim walked over to the couch and sat down with a heavy sigh.

"I'm still afraid," he said. "Every step of the way, I'm afraid of getting lost in the memories I hate, the ones that still can make me forget where I am. I almost don't want any of it back just to avoid them, but I can't say no. I just can't say yes, yet, either. I'm stuck in the middle of remembering things but trying to push them away at the same time. I just don't know if I can handle getting everything back."

"Do you want it?"

"Yes. Sometimes. No. Sometimes."

"But you came here."

"Yeah." Tim looked at him. "A step. Stephen told me that I shouldn't let my fear stop me from getting my life back."

"Stephen?"

"Hoopes. The farmer I stayed with."

"Oh, right."

Tim took another breath and stared at the floor.

"But I remembered something."

"What?"

"You...and me... when I was afraid of really becoming an agent."

Sam smiled, feeling a little better. It was hard knowing that his son was purposefully forgetting things, but to have something he'd said be helpful was nice.

"One of the quotes was...George Sheehan."

"'Success means having the courage, the determination, and the will to become the person you believe you were meant to be.' That one?"

Tim nodded.

"I don't know who I'm meant to be, though. Not now." He looked up again. "Dad, I don't know what to do. I still feel lost."

Sam maneuvered himself onto the couch and hugged Tim. He was actually surprised that Tim let him, given the situation, but Tim didn't pull away. He just sat there and let his father hug him.

"You're not. You're not lost, Tim. All this is hard. I know it is. It's not what you want for yourself. It's not what _we_ want for you. Mark Twain said, 'Life does not consist mainly, or even largely, of facts and happenings. It consists mainly of the storm of thought that is forever flowing through one's head.' Right now, your thoughts are not what you want, but they can be."

For a moment, there was no response, but then, Sam heard something that gave him more hope than anything else, something that told him his son would recover, eventually.

A quote.

"'What if a demon were to creep after you one night, in your loneliest loneliness, and say, 'This life which you live must be lived by you once again and innumerable times more; and every pain and joy and thought and sigh must come again to you, all in the same sequence. The eternal hourglass will again and again be turned and you with it, dust of the dust!' Would you throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse that demon? Or would you answer, 'Never have I heard anything more divine'?' Nietzsche. ...but I don't know what the answer is."

Sam smiled.

"The Buddha said, 'Let yourself be open and life will be easier. A spoon of salt in a glass of water makes the water undrinkable. A spoon of salt in a lake is almost unnoticed.' The more you open yourself up to the life you had, the more you'll be able to bear."

"How can you know that?"

"Because I've found that the smaller your world is, the easier it is to lose it. When you let more in, it becomes stronger."

Another quote.

"C. S. Lewis. 'Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.' That's what I have."

"You can have more. 'Life belongs to the living, and he who lives must be prepared for changes.' Goethe. Your life can't be the same, but it can still be a good life if you let it be."

"I don't like all these changes."

"I don't like them for you, either."

"You were going to kill yourself. But you didn't. How did you stop wanting to?"

Inwardly, Sam grimaced. He didn't like talking about that period of his life, but he understood why Tim was asking. That was as close as anyone had to this pain he felt.

"At first, it was simply because I knew you couldn't handle it if I did. You were there, and I saw it in your eyes. You couldn't have dealt with my dying, not like that. So I stopped trying because of you. ...but that couldn't be all that I had. It can't come from outside. It has to be inside, and I learned to see outside of my own problems, my own regrets, my own pain. I learned to see the world. It wasn't easy. It took time, but I did it. Now, while I still wish that I could walk, I'm happy. I have problems. I don't think I'll ever stop wanting to walk again. I hate the health problems I have. But even with all those things, I'm happy, Tim, because I learned how to be."

"Do you think I can?" Tim asked.

"Yes. I don't know what it will take, but I think you can be happy again."

There was a loud, trembling inhalation.

"I want to be happy again, too," Tim said.

Sam tightened his arms around his son.

"You can be, Tim. You _can_."

"How?"

"With time. With help. You can't do it alone, but _you_ have to do it."

Tim finally pulled back and looked at Sam, his eyes red.

"Did you ever just want to give up?"

"Yes," Sam said, honestly. "But you kept me going. Even though you wouldn't speak to me because you were so angry about what I had almost done, I remembered you when I wanted to give up. That was enough until I could want it for myself."

"And now?"

"Now, you need to find what will help you."

"I just want to be able to live with what happened."

"You can do that. Do you want to talk to Dr. Jonas while you're here?"

"I can. I probably should talk to someone."

"It doesn't have to be him if you don't want him. He helped me a lot, but there are other options."

"It's okay. It can be him. I don't have a preference."

"All right. We'll call him tomorrow."

"Okay."

Sam could see that Tim was still struggling, but he could also see some improvement. In spite of his problems, Tim was there. He wasn't having a meltdown, and he seemed to be remembering things, even if it wasn't consciously.

All in all, he was glad of it, and he would do whatever it took to help, now that Tim had decided he could handle this much.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Three weeks later..._

Dr. Jonas smiled as Tim came in and sat down. There was a definite sense of reluctance about Tim's entrance. He wasn't sure he wanted this, but he also wasn't sure he didn't. So, what it boiled down to was that he was coming here but still worried about coming.

"How are you feeling today, Tim?"

"Okay."

One-word answers. Not the best start.

"Nightmares?"

"Yes."

"Any new memories?"

This was where Tim didn't like to answer. He continually vacillated between wanting to remember and not. From a strictly medical standpoint, Dr. Jonas found it interesting that Tim seemed to have some degree of control over what he remembered. Part of it was just refusing to think about it. Dr. Jonas was sure that the memories were actually there. It was just that Tim wasn't touching them, wasn't _allowing_ his mind to bring them up because he was so afraid of falling into his memories of being tortured.

"Tim, you know that this is part of what you're here for."

Tim nodded, but he was tense.

"Remember that the memories don't have to be frightening."

"They usually are."

"Remember, Tim, that you can control that. You just need to take it slowly. Try something you might _want_ to know about. Think about it."

Tim dropped his gaze to the floor and didn't respond.

"Okay, Tim. I want you to lean back and relax."

They usually had to do this before Tim could actually respond to anything in any significant way. As he guided Tim to a state of relaxation, Dr. Jonas thought about what memories he would try to get Tim to remember. So far, he'd been staying away from anything having to do with his work. Tim's worst memories were associated with DC and Dr. Jonas wanted Tim to realize that there was a lot of good he was missing.

 _Maybe high school teachers?_

"Tim, who was your high school PE teacher?" Dr. Jonas asked, keeping his voice low, gentle, just getting Tim to hear him without feeling pressure to respond.

There was a long silence.

"Coach Schwab," Tim finally said, softly.

"Tell me about him."

"He's...the only coach who didn't think I was worthless."

"Why?"

"I got detention for getting in a fight. He was in charge of it. I don't know why that changed things, but it did. He would always ask me how things were going until I got out of high school. I even sent him a note when I graduated from MIT."

Dr. Jonas smiled. Tim had gone even further than he'd hoped with that simple question. He knew about Coach Schwab, a little bit. So this was the kind of question he could ask and know if Tim was making anything up.

"Sounds like a good teacher."

"He is."

"And you remembered."

Tim nodded.

"Was it hard to do?"

Tim shook his head.

"The memories are there, Tim. The good ones. You're only hurting yourself if you try to keep everything away just to stave off the bad ones. I know the bad memories are _really_ bad, but the good ones are really good, and there are more of them. Years worth, not months. What you need to do is work through your fear of the bad. Not everything will lead you back to that."

"Yes, it does. Everything," Tim said softly.

"Even Coach Schwab?"

"Not yet. It will."

"Only if you force it."

"It's not force," Tim said. "It's the way it is."

"You're making it this way," Dr. Jonas said, earnestly. It was important that Tim not set himself up for failure. He was falling into the assumption that he would always feel this way. It would be a self-fulfilling prophecy if he didn't stop it. The other therapists Tim had seen had also pointed out this problem Tim was having. It wasn't really a surprise, given what he'd gone through, but it wasn't something that they should accept.

"I don't know how to make it any other way."

"Will you let me help you try, then? If you can't do it on your own, that's what we're here for. Not just me, but your family and friends, too. If you need the help, all you have to do is ask for it and people will be there for you."

"People I don't quite know."

"People you'd remember if you gave both them _and_ yourself a chance."

Tim licked his lips nervously and said nothing.

"Tim, I want to ask you a question. I need you to answer it honestly. After that, we'll use your answer to figure out what to do next. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Do you want to remember your life? Do you want to remember everything that you are? Or do you want to give it all up and do something else, somewhere else?"

Tim looked away from him.

"Tim, all I need is an answer. I'm not going to judge you. I just need to know how best to help and I can't do that if I don't know what you want. ...or if _you_ don't know what you want."

Tim stood up and walked to the window. He stared outside in silence. This time Dr. Jonas didn't say anything more. He wanted to give Tim a chance to think, to speak, to decide.


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

 _Two weeks later..._

Tony still hated seeing the empty desk. It was wrong that it was still empty. None of them had heard from Tim since he'd left to go back to Montana. Gibbs had said once that Tim's parents had called to let them know that he was okay, and that was great. He really did want Tim to be doing better, but still...

He sighed and tried to focus on his work. Otherwise, Ellie might see him and start prodding again. She got that way, sometimes. It was kind of like Abby, only less frenetic. It was just that probing stare she had, as if she was trying to figure out a particularly difficult puzzle.

His phone rang.

"DiNozzo speaking."

" _Hi...Tony."_

For just a second, Tony had no idea who it was on the other end of the line. It had been weeks and then, really, months before that.

"Tim."

" _Um...yeah."_

"Are you still in Montana?"

" _No. I'm in Ohio. ...with my...parents."_

"Oh. Uh...how are things going?"

" _Depends on the day."_

There was an awkward pause.

"Um...how about today?"

" _Okay, so far."_

Tony couldn't hear the same fear that he'd been hearing before, but he didn't hear much inflection, either. Just those strange pauses.

"What do you need?"

" _A ride to DC."_

Tony couldn't help it. He was shocked.

"You need what?"

" _A ride. To DC. From Ohio."_

"Really?"

" _Yeah."_

"What for?"

" _To see if...if I can get that part of...of my life...back. Or if I just can't deal with what it led to."_

"Do you _want_ it?"

" _If I can have it without any...accompanying meltdowns."_

"And you need a ride."

" _Yes. From you."_

"Why me?"

" _I don't know. I thought about it, and it seemed right."_

Tony felt his brow furrowing.

"Seemed right?"

" _When I was in Montana...the first time...you know... I had feelings about things. Not memories really. Just a feeling of what was right. Once I felt like I should go east. Once I knew I was used to being teased. There was nothing else, just those things. Gibbs didn't seem right. D... Ducky didn't seem right. Agent Bishop is still a stranger. I know there's a Jimmy Palmer there, too, but he didn't seem right, either. That leaves you. I don't have a car here...and no one thinks I should be driving yet, anyway. Including me."_

"Okay...when?"

" _Whenever you can. I don't have...a schedule. Not really."_

"So...is this a permanent move?"

" _I don't know. I haven't been back there...not since everything...happened. I don't know if it's too soon or if never is too soon. I just have to...try."_

"Okay. I can give you a ride. I'll have to check with Gibbs, first. Work and everything."

This had to be one of the most awkward conversations ever. The way Tim was talking made it impossible for Tony to feel like he could act naturally. Whatever Tim was feeling, Tony was _really_ feeling uncomfortable. Still, he had to say yes. Tim needed a ride. He was coming back to DC! No matter what else was going along with that, he still was coming back.

" _That's fine. You can call here at my parents' house. I know you have the number."_

"Okay. I will."

" _Bye, Tony."_

"Bye."

Tony heard the click indicating that Tim had hung up. He sat back and looked at the empty desk again. He tried to imagine Tim back in his place, but the frightened, uncertain, weakened stranger wasn't the Tim he had known, and the Tim he'd been talking to on the phone just now didn't seem like the Tim he had known, either. What would come of this? He had no idea.

Gibbs walked into the bullpen, sat at his desk and then raised an eyebrow. Tony cleared his throat and rushed to explain why he was just sitting there, doing nothing.

"Tim just called me."

Gibbs actually looked a little surprised, although he didn't say anything.

"He was asking for a ride back to DC. He said he wants to see if he can get his life here back. I don't know if that means he's remembered everything with his family or what, but he asked me to give him a ride. When can I go?"

"When did he want to go?"

"He said whenever. I'm supposed to call and let him know."

Gibbs nodded.

"We're not working this weekend."

"Okay."

"He staying with you?"

"Oh...uh...I have no idea," Tony said, feeling awkward. That would be weird. "He didn't say. I'll have to ask."

Gibbs might have smiled a little bit.

"Might be a good idea."

Tony nodded.

"It's going to be weird," he said. "I don't know why me."

"You don't?"

"No. Do you?"

Gibbs just gave Tony a look and went back to work. Tony hated when he did that. He could never figure out if it was because he thought Tony needed to figure it out for himself or if he actually had no idea and didn't want to admit it.

Well, right now, he didn't know; so he just had to hope that Tim was more knowledgeable in this case. It was his idea. He must have something he was going for.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim hung up the phone and let out a whoosh. That had been a hard call to make.

"Well?"

Tim looked at Naomi and tried to smile.

"He said okay."

"You're still not sure about doing this?"

"No. I'm terrified of it." Tim looked around the room. "I'm starting to...know this place, not just remember it. Maybe I don't need to go back there. Maybe I could just..." He sighed. He couldn't. He couldn't give up what he had wanted so much. He had wanted to be at NCIS. That was why he felt that he had to do this. Dr. Jonas had encouraged him to take as much time as he needed. There was no need to rush into anything. There was time.

...but for Tim, going back was something his old self would have done in a heartbeat. He knew it and he knew that he couldn't ignore that. Even if what he became wasn't the same as what he had been. He knew that giving up NCIS without at least _trying_ to keep it would mean a complete alteration of himself.

He wasn't ready to admit to that much change.

Naomi sat down beside him.

"Tim, if this is what you want, then, you need to see it through. You won't be stuck there. If it is too much, you can leave."

"It's so much of who I am," he said, almost thinking aloud more than responding to what Naomi had said. "Or who I was. I lived a lot of my life there and it made me the person I was when..." He tensed and took a deep breath, trying to control the force of the memories. Even he could admit that it was getting better, but they were still hard to bear. Still, he forced himself to say it. "...when they...tortured me."

Naomi squeezed his arm gently but didn't interrupt.

"I just can't cut out that much of my life. And I _know_ how much I wanted it. There are some things I just remember. The events are there but I don't have the context for them, for what they mean. But there are things I'm starting to know." He looked at his mother. "Like my family. It's not about the memories so much as the feeling. I _know_ that you're my mother. I know my father and my sister. And I'm starting to get the memories to fit in around it, but the...the core is there. I need that from DC, as much as it scares me to go."

"Why Agent DiNozzo?"

"Because the old me would have called on him. If I needed a ride somewhere, I would have called him. He would have made me regret it, but he would have done it if he could. If Ziva had still been here, I might have asked her, first. But she's not."

"Did you ever talk to her again?"

Tim shook his head. "When I tried to call, I just got voicemail. I left a message, but I get the feeling it won't get answered for a long time, if at all. So I think I would have asked Tony and been pretty sure of getting what I needed, but I need to _know_ more than remember the way things were."

"Have you talked to your friends in Montana?"

Tim shook his head. "No. I tried once, but I can't manage both right now. They said they understood. When I feel more...stable...then, I'll go back, but not until then. Kelly was right. I can't deal with it all right now, and she can't really deal with me as I am, not in any serious way."

"What about later?"

Tim shrugged. "I don't know. Neither does she. But even if nothing more comes of it, I have a friend, and that means a lot. She was there all the times that it mattered."

"Good. I liked her. It's not easy to be there when things go as badly as they did for you."

Tim nodded and tried not to think about that.

"I'm afraid it's not going to work," he said. "And I'm afraid of trying it. I know I need to, but every time I went back there..."

"Tim, that was weeks ago. You've been getting help since then."

"I'm not fixed, Mom."

"I know that, but you're better than you were. Remember that Dr. Jonas told you to keep a positive outlook as much as you can. It will help you be more relaxed, less tense."

"Yeah. I know."

The phone started ringing. Tim looked at it and then at Naomi.

"Already?"

"Maybe. Answer and see, Tim."

Tim swallowed nervously and answered the phone.

"Hello?"

" _Hey, Tim. It's Tony. You okay with waiting until the weekend? We're off duty Saturday and Sunday."_

"That's..." Tim took a calming breath. "That's fine."

" _Okay. I'll get there sometime on Saturday."_

"That's fine," Tim said again.

" _Oh...uh, where will you be staying?"_

"With...um, Ducky. He said he had a spare room."

" _Oh, good."_ Tony sounded unaccountably relieved. Tim wondered why, but didn't dare ask.

"Saturday, then," he said.

" _Yeah. Bye."_

Tim hung up.

"Saturday?" Naomi asked.

"Yeah."

"Will you be ready?"

"No, but I don't think I ever will. I just have to do it, and hope it works out."

Naomi smiled. "It _will_ , Tim. It will work out as it should."

Tim couldn't feel that confident, but he was going to try it.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

 _Saturday..._

Tony pulled up in front of Tim's house. He really wondered how this would go. The whole way up to Ohio, he had worried about the trip back. Would Tim be able to handle it? What if he couldn't? What if he had a meltdown? Did he remember more? Would he keep remembering more? Did he _want_ to?

All in all, this was as terrifying a situation as any showdown with a criminal.

But he was here and he wasn't going to run away.

He got out of the car and walked up to the door. He hesitated, wondering if Tim would still look the same as he had the last time he was at NCIS, i.e. worn out, frightened, and damaged. Then, he took a deep breath and knocked.

He heard the approaching footsteps and then, after a long pause, the door opened, revealing Sam McGee. Well, _he_ hadn't been the source of the footsteps.

"Mr. McGee," Tony said, trying to be neutral.

Sam smiled all too knowingly.

"Come in, Agent DiNozzo. We're all grateful that you were willing to make this trek."

"How is he?" Tony asked, lowering his voice a little.

"He's better than he was, but he has farther to go. That's the way life is, but he's showing a lot of resolve in trying to get back his DC life. None of us are really sure how it will go, but we're all hoping for the best."

"Do you all agree on what the best is?" Tony asked.

Sam laughed softly. "Maybe. Maybe not. I know my hope is more nebulous. Whatever is best, that's what I want for him. I don't care what it is. As long as it's best and he gets it."

"Do you know why he picked me to come?"

"Only that he said it felt right, that he knew that he would have asked you in other circumstances."

"Really?" Tony asked, skeptically.

"That's what he said. We can only go by what he says. He told Naomi that he thinks he would have asked Ziva if she had been here, but since she isn't, you're the one who felt right."

That sounded a bit more right. Tony couldn't imagine that he would be first on Tim's list. First by default sounded much more likely.

"Tony?"

Tony turned around and saw Tim coming down the stairs, a bag over his shoulder. At first, Tony thought he looked no better than he had before, but then, as he got closer, he saw how much more settled Tim was. As Sam had said, Tim wasn't back to normal, but he was better.

"Hey, Tim. You ready to head out?"

Tim actually hesitated, as if he was reconsidering the idea. For a moment, Tony thought that he really would change his mind and that this trip would be for nothing.

"Yes. Yes, I'm ready."

Then, he turned to his parents and hugged them both. He whispered something to Sam who hugged him again. Then, he turned back to Tony and nodded.

"I'm ready."

They walked out of the house, got into Tony's car and began the six-hour trip to DC.

The first two hours were painfully silent. Tony had no idea what to say and Tim was just staring out the window.

Then...

"Did you ever get lost?"

"Huh?" Tony asked. "What did you say?"

Tim turned at looked at him.

"When you were young. Did you ever get lost?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"Uh...I was with my mom at a mall or something. I stopped to look at a toy. She kept moving. Then, suddenly, I looked around and couldn't find her."

"What did you do?"

Tony smiled a little.

"I think I sat down on the floor and started crying. I was only four or five years old at the time."

"How did you get back to her?"

"Someone saw me crying, took me to the front of the store and they made an announcement of where I was. My mom was there in like five minutes, I'm sure, but it was a long five minutes for me."

Tim nodded. Tony wondered where this was going, because he was pretty sure that Tim had a reason for his question.

"I'm at the point, now, that I can remember things if I think about them. If you asked me something, I could probably bring up the memory."

"That's great."

Tim shook his head. "No, it's not. Because for some of the memories, it's more like remembering a movie than it is my life. It's like being lost still. I look around and I realize that I don't really _know_ everything. It is getting better, but I almost feel like I'm still disconnected from...everything."

"Is there anything that you _do_ know, then?"

Tim nodded. "My family. I really know them. I know some parts of myself...like coming back to DC. I know that I need to do it because of who I was. At the same time, though, I don't really feel like I fit in there."

"You do!" Tony blurted out, before he could think.

"How do you know?"

"Because you're still you. Even if you've changed, that doesn't mean you're a different person!" Tony was embarrassed that he actually sounded a little plaintive. "It just means that you need more time to get back to...things. If you have the memories, then, you know that."

"I'm still having problems dealing with them all, Tony. I don't think about them unless I have to."

"Not even the good ones?"

He glanced over and saw Tim shake his head as he stared out the windshield.

"Come on! You've got to get the good ones back! You can't let those go!"

"There's just so many," Tim said softly. "I don't know. I've had so long with nothing and then, just dribs and drabs. I don't know how to just remember."

"You don't have to know to how. You just do it. It's not like you have to be thinking of everything all at once. No one does that. They just have the experiences that make them who they are."

"Like being abducted and tortured for six months," Tim said.

"Yeah. That's got to be part of it, Tim. You're never going to make that go away."

"I've tried."

"I know, but if the only way to do it is to lose everything, that can't be worth it."

"I don't know, Tony. It just might be."

"It's not," Tony said.

He saw a sign for a rest area coming up and took the exit. Then, he stopped the car and looked at Tim.

"You can't give up knowing Kate, the times she helped you through things. You can't give up how excited you were to be promoted to a field agent, even if we teased you. You can't give up being able to tell off that government lady when she kept badgering you. Heck, the guys in MTAC told me you got a standing ovation for it. Or being Ziva's first real friend or dating Abby or all those times you just liked being the computer nerd and you didn't let anyone make you feel bad for it. There are probably way more things that I don't even know about, but you do. Good things. Yeah, there are bad things, too, but everyone's life is like that. Look at Kelly Hoopes. I read some of the news articles about her. She did the right thing and she lost her whole life in Chicago, but I'll bet she still is happy most of the time."

Tim looked at him for a moment and then looked away. Tony was afraid he'd gone too far.

"Look, Tim, I know I don't understand everything that you went through. I know it was really bad, but don't you see that remembering the good things will help make the bad things easier?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, it will."

"How do I do that?"

"I don't know. I'm not smart like that. I just hate seeing you like this...and I want to do something to help. I just don't know what to do."

Tim nodded.

"But I do know that the good stuff is worth remembering."

"I hope so. That's why I'm trying to go back."

"Then, we'll get you back there," Tony said. He pulled back onto the road and they continued on their way.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky waited anxiously for Tony to arrive with Tim. It had been nearly a year since Tim's initial disappearance. To have him back here now was a hopeful sign that Tim might really come back, but there was just no way to know.

Finally, after more glances out the front window than he'd like to admit to, Ducky saw Tony's car pull up.

Tony got out of the car first. He looked toward Ducky with a noncommital expression. Then, he looked back as Tim got out of the car.

Tim could still stand to gain more weight back, but he looked more sturdy than he had the last time Ducky had seen him. He was a bit more settled, although it was clear he still had a long way to go. That he had actually asked Tony to bring him here spoke volumes, whether he realized it or not.

"Timothy, I'm happy to see that you made it."

Tim nodded and smiled slightly.

"Thanks for the ride, Tony."

"Sure. No problem. Anything else you need from me?"

Tim shook his head.

"Okay. It's good to have you back, Tim."

"Thanks," Tim said.

There was a forced feeling to the conversation, but neither of them were ready to really get down to it. At this point, to have Tim spending hours with Tony without having any kind of meltdown said that he was recovering from his experiences.

"Come inside, Timothy," Ducky said.

Tim took his bag and headed inside.

"You can stay in this room, here," Ducky said, gesturing to the spare room on the main floor.

"Thanks."

"While you're here, Timothy, I don't want you to think that you have to ask my permission for things. You are not just a visitor. So think of this place as your home away from home."

Tim nodded. Then, he sighed.

"But where is home?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

Ducky wasn't sure he was meant to hear it, but he decided that he couldn't just ignore the question.

"Home is where you choose to make it. There's no right answer, except for the one that is right _to you_."

"I don't know what's right."

"But you have the time to figure it out. And while you're doing that, you can feel free to stay here for as long as you need to."

"Thanks, Ducky."

Ducky smiled as Tim finally used his name without hesitation.

"You're very welcome. I won't force my company on you, but if you don't want to be alone, you have but to ask."

Tim nodded and then went into the spare room and closed the door. Ducky figured that he probably needed some time to acclimate. He was likely very nervous about being back in DC after all this time away from it, and if he wanted some time alone to adjust, that was fine.

Ducky decided to let Gibbs know that Tim was back, although Tony might have told him already. He dialed Gibbs' number.

" _He's there?"_ Gibbs asked without any greeting.

"Yes. He's sequestered himself in the bedroom for now, but he's here."

" _Everything set up with his shrink?"_

"Yes. His mother called me to let me know about it. Dr. Taylor is ready for him."

" _NCIS?"_

"I'm not going there, yet, Jethro. Give him a chance to realize that being back in DC isn't going to result in the same situation as before. He needs that time."

" _He all right? Any better?"_

"Better, yes. All right? I don't know. He's not quite comfortable with me, certainly not enough to confide in me, yet, but there's time."

" _Yeah. Lots of time."_

Then, Gibbs disconnected. Ducky sighed a little. They all wished there was some magic button they could press that would restore Tim's memory and former personality, allowing him to reclaim his life again. Alas, something like that didn't exist. But Tim was making an effort to figure out his life, and that meant progress. He would just have to try to be optimistic about it.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

Tim sat in the room and let time pass without his participation. He was back in DC. This was where he had lived for more than ten years of his life. This was where he had achieved the goal he'd set when he was still in high school. This was where he had friends, a job, a life he had enjoyed.

This was where a group of men had taken him, tortured him and made him wish that he was dead.

He took a deep breath, trying to let go of that memory and not let it take over.

 _What do I need right now?_

Tony had been startingly adamant that Tim would feel better if he remembered everything, but he was still afraid that letting all those memories in would drown him. How could he possibly go so quickly from nothing to everything without being overwhelmed? Just six months of memories had almost consumed his reason. No matter how many times people told him that he would be okay, that it wouldn't be like that, he couldn't bring himself to believe them. He knew the memories were there in his head because he could think and wonder about something and he knew it with little or no effort. It was just that he was still afraid of not being able to tolerate all of them. So they came to him in dribs and drabs and he let them come only with reluctance.

Now, though, he knew that he would still have to remember them if he was really going to get his DC life back.

 _But can I get this back? Can I really deal with it all?_

Finally, late in the night, Tim gave up on sleeping. It wasn't going to get better if he just kept worrying about whether or not it _could_ get better. He had to try something. He got out of bed, got dressed, wrote a note for Ducky and then, he left the house.

He knew that Ducky would worry, regardless, but at least, this way, he would know where Tim was going.

Once safely out of the house without disturbing Ducky, Tim headed for NCIS. He walked until he saw a bus. Then, he took that bus to a Metro station. Then, he took the train to the Navy Yard and walked the rest of the way. He tried not to dwell on the fact that he didn't even have to think about the route. He knew how to get where he wanted to go. Once he was out of the station and walking, he became painfully aware that he was alone, walking on the street in the dark. As he walked, he was afraid. This was where they had taken him before.

Still, he struggled to keep walking without having a meltdown.

 _You can do this. You have to do this._

He stopped, took a deep breath, and then, he continued on his way.

He had to show his ID to the security guard on duty, but the man recognized him and so he let Tim in without any trouble.

Tim kept walking. There were still some signs of the attack on NCIS but not many. Places where the brick hadn't been repaired, a couple of dings on the cannons in Willard Park.

He wasn't ready to walk inside the building just yet.

Instead, he walked across the street to Willard Park and sat down on a bench, facing the building.

Over the past few weeks, ever since Stephen had spoken to him, Tim had been thinking about whether or not he wanted to come back here. He was trying to figure out what he really wanted out of his life, now. The past year had pretty much sucked. Six months of torture. Two months of total amnesia. Months of uncertainty.

And all because he was an agent. None of this would have happened if he hadn't been. That was the real reason he was so hesitant. What if he became an agent again? Would this happen again? He knew the possibility was extremely remote. He _knew_ that, but it didn't matter when it came right down to it. His experience had been so bad that he would still do almost anything to avoid it happening again. If he had to go through that again, he would tell them whatever they wanted to know with the hope of not feeling the pain again.

That might make him a liability, too.

He stayed where he was, staring at the building.

Time passed. He sat in the darkness.

He knew that what he really wanted was impossible. There was no way to make what happened not exist. He couldn't go back in time. He couldn't stop all of this misery. He knew all that, but at the same time, he longed for a life in which that torture didn't exist. How could he ever expect to live normally with that hovering over his mind like a black cloud?

More time passed. He kept sitting there. Just staring.

Then, he saw someone walking toward the building. He didn't say anything. He just watched. He didn't know if he wanted the man to see him or not. He didn't move. His rear end was a little numb from how long he'd been sitting there, but that wasn't a big deal. He'd felt much worse.

The man turned just before he got to the doors and paused. He stopped. Tim couldn't tell who it was. He was far enough away and it was still dark.

He just sat there.

Then, the man started walking toward him. Tim thought about getting up and either leaving or meeting him halfway, but in the end, he decided just to sit where he was.

"Tim, what are you doing here so early?"

Gibbs.

"What time is it?"

"Just after five."

"Why are _you_ here? It's Sunday."

"Had things to do."

Tim nodded and said nothing else.

Gibbs walked over and sat down beside him.

"How long have you been here?"

"A few hours."

"Why?"

"I was thinking."

"About what?"

"About my life...and what it's been...and what it will be...and how NCIS will or won't fit into it."

"And?"

Tim shrugged.

"You want to come inside?"

"No. ...and yes."

"No one will be in there except maybe a couple of people in MTAC."

"Is that supposed to help?"

"Does it?"

"I don't know."

Tim wasn't looking at Gibbs. He was just looking at the building. Taking in all it represented, both good and bad. He reached back into his memory, a rare moment when he _tried_ to remember something.

"I was so excited to work here. You have no idea how much finagling it took to make sure that I was here and able to work. I got in such big trouble."

"When?"

"The day you asked me what I was still doing here, why I hadn't gone back to my real job. That same day, my supervisor had called and threatened to fire me if I didn't get back to Norfolk, ASAP. I told him I had to finish a project for you before I left. I was lying through my teeth. I should have been back in Norfolk days before that and had kept putting it off. I never told you, but I actually had thought you were going to tell me that I was fired, not that you were transferring me to your team. It was what I'd always wanted, and I suddenly had it when I was least expecting it."

Silence.

"Was that hard to remember?"

"No," Tim said, honestly. "Not if you just mean how hard was it to pull it out. The memories are all there. I feel the pressure of them all the time. That's not hard for me to do, but I have to actually do it, and I'm still afraid of that."

"You don't want it?"

"It's not that simple."

"What is it, then?"

"It's scary." Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly, still staring only at the building. "It's not about whether I _want_ to remember or not. It's about whether I _can_ remember without falling apart."

"Did fine there."

"Yeah, but every time I go inside that building, something comes at me and threatens to make my brains ooze out my ears."

"You haven't been inside since the attack."

"No, I haven't."

"Why assume it'll be the same?"

"Why assume it'll be different?" Tim shot back.

"Because things aren't the same now. _You_ aren't the same as you were a few months ago. Then, you were one step away from a meltdown. We all knew it. Now, you're still not ready to come back, but you're a lot more settled than you were."

"I know, but how I can I work at a place that fills me with dread?"

"Can you really give it up without seeing what reality is?"

Finally, Tim turned away from the building and looked at Gibbs. Gibbs was already staring at him.

"Can't you understand? Those months...they still haunt me every day. I can't escape them. They're always there. Every second with them was more intense than a whole year of my life before. That's six months of seconds. That's over 15 million seconds all crowding around every memory I touch. Sometimes, I can't hold those seconds back and I feel like I'm going to drown. Sometimes, I can, but they still don't go away. I know they can't. I don't need you to tell me that. I just don't know how to...have a real life with that always there. I would give up anything if I was told the memories would go away. If I could _know_ , without any doubt, that I'd lose the memory of those six months if I gave up everything else in my life, I would do it. I know that we're supposed to try to find something good in the bad, but I can't see _anything_ good that came out of that time. Nothing."

Another silent minute.

"Please, Boss. If there's something that will make this better, I need to know. I _need_ someone to tell me what to do. I need someone to help me see that there's more to my life than this because, if that's true, and my various shrinks have all told me that it is, I just can't see it."

Gibbs was quiet for a few more seconds.

"Will you trust me enough to let me take you somewhere?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Come on."

Tim got up and followed Gibbs to his car. Gibbs drove him off the Yard and to a cemetery. He parked and then led Tim to a grave.

He looked at it.

"Your family," he said, softly.

"Yeah."

"Why here?" he asked. "I knew about them already. You told me."

"I couldn't come here for a long time. I couldn't stand knowing that they were here. It's not the same, I know."

"No, it's not."

"I lost my whole life," Gibbs said. "I would have killed myself. Instead, I almost destroyed myself. Had to rebuild from nothing."

"But you're here."

"Yeah, I am. Because I decided to keep living."

Tim actually smiled a little. "You and Stephen are a lot alike, but he talks more than you do."

Gibbs smiled. "Most people do."

"He's lived most of his life in one place because he's scared of going anywhere else, but he's happy. He has what he wants and doesn't feel confined. You almost killed yourself and then completely changed what you were doing with your life and you seem pretty content. And yet, I'm supposed to confront the place that terrifies me and go back to the life I had before because I won't be happy otherwise?"

"Yes."

Tim rubbed his hands over his face. Maybe he was more tired than he'd thought.

"That makes no sense."

"Yes, it does."

"Why? Why can't I just leave?"

"Because you already know you can't. You've already figured that out. You just want someone to tell you that you're wrong."

"Why am I not wrong?"

"Because what Stephen Hoopes has is not what you would have."

"What do you mean?"

"He has exactly what he wants. What you always wanted was what you had at NCIS. If you give that up, you'll be giving up what you wanted and whatever you get won't be as good."

Tim sighed and looked at the grave again.

"How did you get over this?"

"I didn't."

"Even now?"

"Better now than before, but even now."

"Why do you think _I_ can get over what happened to me?"

"I don't know if you can, but you're already further than I am."

"I don't feel like it."

"You're considering going back. That's further."

Tim sighed.

"Will you trust me once more?"

"What, this time?"

"Trust me."

Tim sighed again. "Okay."

He followed Gibbs back to his car. Then, he realized that they were headed back to NCIS.

"What are we doing back here?"

"Trust me."

"I don't want to go in there," Tim said.

"I know. Trust me."

"Why should I?"

"Because you know you should."

"I hate it when you do that," Tim said.

Gibbs just smiled and parked the car. He led Tim, not to the front doors as Tim had expected, but to the back.

"Why here?"

"You won't be as tense."

"Fat chance of that."

"Come on."

Tim followed Gibbs in through the back. They went up on the elevator and then into the bullpen.

"Sit at your desk."

Tim looked at the desks. He knew which one was his. He didn't have to think about it. He knew. He walked over and sat down.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Sit."

Tim did what he was told, but he couldn't help seeing. He looked around the bullpen. The large windows, the orange walls, the balcony, the desks. It was all so familiar. He had spent a lot of his life in this very spot.

" _So help me, Tony, I will never bail you out on your reports again," Tim muttered to himself as the elevator doors closed. "I could have had a chance for an early night."_

" _You're still not finished, McGee?"_

" _Not yet, Boss. I'm close."_

" _I don't care how long it takes you, McGee. Finish it."_

" _Yes, Boss," Tim said, feeling resigned to a long night. It was bad enough that his car had a flat and the spare had been flat, too. He was already going to have to take transit home or else get a taxi. Now, it was going to be even later._

 _Tim sighed. "All I want is to go home and sleep."_

There were hands on his arms, breaking through the flashback, stopping it before it could get really bad.

"Tim."

Tim took a deep breath.

"That's why I'm afraid to come back. How many times will that happen?" Tim whispered. "How many times do I have to go through it again? Once was enough."

"It'll get better, Tim. I'm not saying you should come back tomorrow."

"W-What are you saying, then?" Tim asked, swallowing hard.

"I'm saying that you give your old life a real chance."

"And what would be real?"

"You know what real would be."

"Tell me."

"You keep going to a shrink. You try to talk to us. Maybe, a ways down the road, you try to come back here. A _real_ chance. You don't expect it to be right instantly. You don't think you've failed because of a flashback. You try to remember, remember the good things, remember your life, not the six months of Hell that you went through. That isn't your life."

"What if I can't? What if I can't do it?"

Gibbs let him go and smiled.

"You've never lost at anything you really wanted, Tim. Not in the years I've known you. Everything you really wanted, you got. You even escaped all on your own. No one helped you get away. You got away on your own."

"I would have died in the canal without the Hoopeses."

"Doesn't matter. What you did after six months of nothing but torture is still amazing. If you can't see that, then, I'll ask you to trust me one more time."

"About what?" Tim asked, feeling more than a little wary.

Gibbs skewered him with a look that Tim could remember extremely well. ...and there was a memory attached to it.

" _There's only one time I want you to stop, McGee."_

" _When you tell me."_

" _When you're satisfied. When_ you're _satisfied."_

"About what?" he asked again, when Gibbs didn't continue.

"You can get through all this crap that you've had to deal with. If you really try to get through, you will. It'll take time, but you _will_."

Tim looked at him and then he looked around the bullpen once more.

"I'm tired."

"I'll take you back to Ducky's."

"Okay."

One more time, Tim let Gibbs lead him out of the building, into his car and then let Gibbs drive him to Ducky's house. Tim walked into the house. Ducky wasn't up yet. So he walked into the bedroom, lay down, and finally, his exhaustion led him into sleep.


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

Ducky checked on Tim at about ten. Gibbs had told him about finding Tim on the Yard early in the morning. That he was sleeping was a good thing. He did wonder what the results of Tim's late-night trek would be. However, he wasn't about to rush Tim into sharing, particularly not when that rushing would involve waking him up.

Smiling at Tim's sleeping form, he quietly closed the door and went to the kitchen. He wanted to make sure there was a full meal waiting for Tim when he did wake up. He was curious to see if that intense desire to eat was still present. If so, he would ask about it. If not, then, he wouldn't say a word.

After about half an hour, he heard some stirrings from the spare room and got started cooking. It was late for breakfast, but there was nothing wrong with that.

He heard Tim stumble into the bathroom and smiled. That was a nice, normal reaction.

Then, a few minutes later, Tim came into the kitchen. He still seemed a little logy, but he mustered up a brief smile.

"Sorry I slept so late," he said.

"I hear that you needed it."

"Gibbs called you?"

"Yes. Have a seat, lad. I'm sure you're hungry."

Tim sat at the table and then, he smiled again.

"You didn't have to do all this work for me."

"Oh, it's no trouble. It's a rare occasion that I'm able to cook for others. I enjoy the opportunity."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Ducky made Tim an omelet and got out some orange juice as well. Tim dug in with gusto. At first, it was like Ducky had seen before. Tim was eating without paying attention to anything or anyone else, but then, about halfway through, he looked at Ducky and smiled sheepishly.

"This is almost as good as what Marilyn Hoopes makes for breakfast."

Ducky smiled at the compliment, but he was relieved that Tim could stop eating and speak. And he wanted to encourage that pleasant expression. Tim had had far too few reasons to smile of late.

"Only almost?"

"You should taste her hashbrowns. The stuff you buy in the store is...cardboard by comparison."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it."

Tim nodded. The smile faded a bit.

"When I was with them the first time, the taste didn't even matter. I just wanted to eat as much as I could. I was afraid it would disappear. I was afraid that I'd be punished for eating. When I was with them this last time, I started to notice how it tasted." He smiled a little. "And Marilyn cooks really well. So it tasted good. I'm still not very picky, though. I'll eat just about anything I'm given. I just think about how it tastes while I'm eating it."

"That's an improvement."

"I guess so."

"No, it really is. I was worried about it before, not that you seem to have put on much weight at all."

"I have. The last time I got a check-up, even the doctor said that I was looking much better."

"Oh, you are. Don't get me wrong. But one who hadn't seen you before might still think you needed to eat more."

"I eat plenty. I really do. I don't ever skip a meal. I just have a high metabolism...or something."

Ducky chuckled. "Well, if you have no problems with it, I won't bother you."

Tim started to eat again, but then, he paused and looked a little worried.

"I'm not keeping you from anything, am I? I mean, I know you should be working."

"Don't worry, Timothy. I am where I am most needed. Besides, it's Sunday and I'm not required to be at NCIS."

"Okay."

Tim finished eating, leaving not a scrap on the plate. He drank all the juice. Ducky thought that there might still be a bit of that compulsion, but at the same time, he was slowly moving away from it. Perhaps it was just a part of the healing process and the less attention brought to it, the better it would be.

"Well, Timothy, while I won't be home every day, today, I am at your disposal. Is there anywhere you'd like to go?"

Tim sat on the chair. It was a simple question, but he was giving it deep consideration. Then, he took a breath and looked at Ducky.

"I need to sho–... take a bath."

"Of course. There is a tub in the bathroom upstairs."

"Thanks."

Another deep breath and Tim left the kitchen. All was not well, but it was improving. From what he knew of Tim's experiences, his desire to avoid a shower was understandable. Besides, a bath might be more relaxing anyway.

Ducky cleaned up, wondering what Tim would decide. He was sure that Tim would have _something_ in mind.

He didn't have long to wait. Tim didn't linger in the bathroom. He was downstairs in less than half an hour. For the first time, Ducky paid attention to what he was wearing and he had to suppress a bit of a smile. He wouldn't be out of place on a farm, but compared to his usual style, this was downright cowboy...minus the boots and belt buckle.

Perhaps some of Ducky's amusement showed on his face because Tim looked at what he was wearing and then back up.

"Not really DC style, is it," he said.

"No, not really."

"They bought these for me. I tried to pay them back, but they wouldn't let me. Stephen said that I'd paid in blisters and saddle sores."

"Sounds like not quite an equal trade."

"I agree, but I didn't make them pay me."

A joke. A real joke. Ducky chuckled.

"What you're wearing is fine."

"Good. Could you take me to my apartment? I'm assuming it's still mine."

Ducky was surprised. Tim's last visit to his apartment had been uniformly negative.

"It is. Of course, I can do that."

There was a small smile.

"You're surprised."

"Given how much it seemed to discourage you before, yes, I am."

Tim took a breath.

"It's part of my life. If I come back here, I can't ignore that. It won't go away."

"True. Perhaps, without all that was hanging over you before, you can find more of what you're looking for."

"Maybe. Can we go before I chicken out?"

"Yes. Let's go, now."

"Thanks."

They went to Tim's apartment and stepped inside. This time, Tim seemed to have a purpose. He walked directly to his bookshelf, pulled _Deep Six_ off the shelf and then sat at his typewriter. He opened the book and began to read. Ducky wanted to know what Tim was hoping to get out of it. Surely, he wasn't going to get his impressions of his coworkers from a fictionalized and dramatized version of them.

Still, he didn't feel it was his place to speak and interrupt Tim's ruminations, wherever they were leading him. He seemed much calmer, if no less intent.

After about half an hour, Tim suddenly opened one of the drawers of his desk. He pulled out a stack of pages.

Enough to be _Rock Hollow_? Ducky had never known what Tim had decided to do with that book after all of the mess that had come from it. He did know that Tim had never published it. Quietly, he had kept an eye out, but Thom Gemcity had not published any other books. There had been a few short stories in anthologies but nothing full-length, which was rather sad, even if the characters in _Deep Six_ had been rather surprising.

If he was right about what that was, it would seem that Tim had still finished the story. Tim was reading those pages, whatever they were.

Another hour later, Tim replaced the stack and then opened another drawer and pulled out a much smaller stack.

These, he read completely.

Then, he got up, still without speaking, and went into his bedroom. Ducky followed, trying to be unobtrusive. He walked over to his closet and opened it. The clothes inside weren't dusty because they'd taken care of Tim's place while he was missing...and had continued to do so once he had returned to Montana.

Then, he sat on his bed, staring at his clothes.

Now, Ducky approached him.

"Well, Timothy?" he asked.

Tim jumped a little and looked at him.

"It's not about remembering things, events, moments," Tim said softly. "It's about _knowing_ , whether the memory is there or not. It's about the feeling. Is it there or am I just watching a movie? I've been to three different shrinks and they all keep telling me that I can let the memories in without being overwhelmed...but do I really _need_ to remember it all? If I _know_ , isn't that enough?"

Ducky sat down beside Tim.

"I don't know, Timothy. You tell me. I wouldn't think that would be enough for you. You've never been satisfied with half a story, half a truth, half a life. You've always wanted more."

"Not until I'm satisfied," Tim whispered, almost inaudibly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Is it enough that you know something is right without knowing why? Could you really trust us without remembering why it is you know that you can?"

Tim laughed humorlessly and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands.

"I'm holding back the tide, Ducky. Little bits of it get through, sometimes, I'll even let a little stream come, but I'm holding it back. When the tide comes in, all at once, it knocks you down and drags you out to sea with it. You drown."

"Not always."

"When doesn't it?"

Ducky chanced putting a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder.

"When you don't try to stand against the tide all alone. The more people who help you, the better you can withstand the waves, and you won't be carried out to sea with others holding on to you."

Tim sniffed a couple of times and stared at the floor.

"And, Timothy, there are _always_ people here to help you stand."

"I just...don't know how to let go," Tim said, his voice cracking a little. "Every time I think I can...I can't."

"You've done things right, so far. First, you sought refuge while you recovered from an overload. Then, you went back to one part of your life. Now, you're coming to another. The memories will come as you immerse yourself in your life. If you control the immersion, you don't drown because you can come to the surface and breathe whenever you need to. And, again, you always have people to help you."

After a few minutes, Tim sat up.

"Ducky...I need to be alone in here for a while."

"May I ask why?"

"I can't explain it. Not in words. I just need to be alone. Would you let me?"

"Of course. How long would you like me to stay away?"

"An hour? Maybe two?"

"I can do that. If you need me earlier, you have your phone?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then, you can call me."

"Thanks."

Ducky left, wondering what new thought had entered Tim's mind. He didn't know, but if Tim didn't feel he could explain it, little would be gained by trying to force him to put it into words.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

After the door closed, Tim stood up and walked back to his typewriter. Whatever else was in this space, his typewriter meant something to him. Actually, the computer did, too. There was a little tug toward the computer parts that were stuffed into crates. ...but for now, the typewriter was what he needed.

He sat down, checked the ribbon, replaced it (knowing exactly what to do), rolled in a piece of paper and started to type.

 _I am Tim McGee._

 _I am Tim McGee._

Then, he hesitated. The memories were all there, crowding around, waiting to be remembered, waiting to be put back in their places in his mind. It was just so hard. He knew that Ducky had meant it when he said that Tim didn't need to do it alone, but in a very real sense, he did. No one could open his mind for him, and he didn't feel comfortable enough to make this effort in company. He didn't think he would have even if he remembered all these people. He had the feeling that he would have wanted the struggle alone. Help afterwards, yes, but not during.

He reached out again.

 _I am Tim McGee. My parents are Sam and Naomi McGee. I have a sister. Her name is Sarah._

As Dr. Taylor had suggested, the memories of his more distant past were easier. Tim had got to the point that, while he wasn't _actively_ remembering things about his family, he knew that the memories were there and he could accept them when they came which they had the more he was with them. He didn't feel that same degree of stress and fear. ...but then, being the son of an English lit professor didn't lead to the same kinds of...

He took a breath.

 _I grew up. I loved computers. They made sense to me, but they were never all I wanted. I wanted more._

Not ready to address that more, Tim sat back again. This typewriter was so important to him. He knew it, but at the same time, it did surprise him just a little.

 _I'm an author. I started writing a long time ago. At this point, I've written two full stories, a few short stories, and numerous partial stories. One has been published. I am a successful author. I could have kept going. Maybe I should have, but I didn't._

He sat back again and thought about the topic of _Deep Six_. When he had flipped through it, he had realized how inaccurate the portrayals were, but he also knew that it had been intentional. He hadn't _wanted_ to create the real people in his book. It was fiction, not fact. Still, he could almost remember the feeling when he had decided to exaggerate some of the features of his characters. Tony had become little more than a flirt who occasionally worked. It was a kind of written teasing, although none of them had taken it that way.

Again, he backed away from the memories of NCIS.

Another breath.

 _This is what I always wanted. This was the life I wanted. This was the place I wanted to be. This apartment is small. It was all I could afford when I first moved here, but it's really all the space I need. It's full of the things I loved, books I read once and never read again but couldn't bear to get rid of._

Tim smiled a little at that. More than half the books on the shelves were books he'd either never read or else had only read once and never again.

 _This is part of my life. No matter how much I want to, I can't take it out. I can't ignore it. It won't go away. Reality is reality. In spite of what quantum mechanics says, ignoring that part of my life won't make it not have happened._

Again, he stopped typing.

He got up and walked into the bedroom. He looked around.

Then, he walked back into the main room and over to the section filled with computer parts. He picked pieces up and thought about them.

"The motherboard. The CPU fan. Network card."

They all were there in his mind. He picked up a motherboard.

"Hard drive slots, ROM, power connector, DRAM memory slots, AGP slot."

Facts. Plain, old facts. There was nothing to them. They just were.

He sighed. Enough of the easy stuff. Back to the typewriter.

He sat down again.

 _I'm afraid of remembering everything of my life, but I also think that there's something that could lead me into everything else. Some memory that would affect almost everything else. Maybe not just one, but if I got one and got sucked into remembering, that would lead to others. I can't just remember one thing. Life isn't a series of discrete events. Everything is connected._

Another pull back.

Remembering wasn't just remembering. It was flirting with drowning, not knowing if he'd remember how to swim when the time came.

He was barely speaking aloud. It was silent in the room.

Then, he reached out and tentatively began to type, knowing that what he allowed to come out could never be taken back whether he could deal with it or not.

 _Kate died._

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

For a moment, that was all he could think of, and he thought that, maybe, he was wrong about the memory being important.

Then, the floodgates opened and Tim let out all the air in his lungs in a whoosh.


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

" _There is a chance one of us might die every time we walk through the door."_

" _I was a little afraid."_

" _I really did like you, Kate. A lot."_

" _I'm glad you're here."_

" _Why?"_

" _Because it means I'm not the probie anymore."_

Memory after memory washed over him.

" _You were exactly where you were supposed to be."_

He couldn't stop them from coming.

" _It's all about the Benjamins."_

" _Not always."_

One after another.

" _We say...better ten guilty men go free than one innocent be punished, but I know from personal experience it doesn't always work like that. I couldn't take that chance with Sarah."_

The emotions associated with them were strong, overwhelmingly strong.

" _I'm just glad you're alive."_

Some didn't have any words associated with them. Just moments, events, places. Moments he had observed.

A lot of people had walked away, been sent away, had left, had died.

Some had come back.

Others hadn't.

" _I never would have made it through FLETC without his help."_

Not all were negative. It was just that there were so _many_. He wasn't sure he could make it through them without drowning.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I _wasn't_ sure about it, Jethro," Ducky said. "But at some point, we have to be willing to trust Timothy to do the right thing...the right thing for _himself_."

They headed for Tim's apartment.

"Did he say what he wanted?"

"No. He said that he couldn't explain why he needed it."

"How did he seem?"

"Guarded, unsure. However, it _was_ his suggestion to go back to his apartment."

"How long has it been?"

"Almost two hours. I was on my way to check on him when you called me."

They got to the front door. It was locked which wasn't surprising. Ducky had made sure the door was locked before leaving, just in case.

He knocked.

"Timothy?"

There was no response. Gibbs hesitated for all of ten seconds before deciding to pick the lock.

The main room appeared to be empty. There was no sound.

"Timothy?" Ducky called out. "Are you in here?"

No response.

Ducky looked at Gibbs with concern.

Gibbs strode forward. They weren't going to get anywhere by standing and worrying. It was clear that Tim had been using the typewriter. As he walked toward it, he glanced into the bedroom.

...and he changed trajectory instantly.

"In here, Ducky."

Tim was sitting on the floor by his bed. His eyes were wide open, his hands covering his mouth. He was taking quick, shallow breaths.

Gibbs knelt down.

"Tim. Tim, can you hear me?"

Ducky hurried in and also knelt on the floor.

"Timothy. What happened?"

Still no response.

"Tim."

"Is it a flashback?" Ducky wondered. "This isn't like his others."

"I don't know."

Tim wasn't looking at anything, it seemed. Gibbs reached out and grabbed Tim's arm with one hand and his shoulder with the other.

"...okay?" Tim whispered.

"What?"

Tim's eyes seemed to focus on him.

"...warm in here..."

"What do you mean, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

"...glass..."

"He's remembering," Ducky said in realization. "He told me to leave because he wanted to try to remember. Alone."

Gibbs wanted to ask why Tim would do that when he'd shown so much fear about being able to tolerate it, but he knew. Tim wasn't the kind of person who wanted an audience for the hard things. He also didn't want to _have_ to lean on others for the hard things. He felt like he should be able to deal with it on his own. He had decided to remember. Alone.

"Tim, we're right here. You're not alone," Gibbs said, hoping that Tim could actually hear him.

If Tim heard, he made no sign of it.

"Let us help you, Timothy."

Tim's eyes shifted from Gibbs to Ducky, but they were still glazed.

"...back...so tired..." Tim whispered.

What memory he was experiencing wasn't clear.

"...home..."

Ducky took hold of Tim's wrist and then shook his head in concern.

"His pulse is racing, Jethro. We need to get him out of this if we can."

"How?"

"I don't know. I'm open to suggestions."

A shaking hand on Ducky's arm stopped the conversation.

"No..." Tim said. He truly looked at them both and then slumped over, flopping limply against Ducky.

"Let's get him off the floor," Ducky said.

They lifted and got Tim onto his bed. Ducky took his pulse again.

"It is slowing, although it's still faster than I'd like it to be."

"Was this a good thing, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"I couldn't say for certain. That he was willing to try remembering is a good thing, but the results of this overload? I don't know. Even if everything goes perfectly, whatever that might entail, it won't be over for him. We can only hope that he didn't overwhelm himself again."

"If he did?"

Ducky only shook his head and looked at Tim who was now asleep or unconscious.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up with a nasty taste in his mouth, an ache in his head, and a feeling that his brain was going to explode.

He groaned and brought both his hands to his head.

"Timothy?"

Tim opened his eyes and then winced.

"Timothy, can you hear me?"

"...yeah, I think so," he mumbled. "I feel terrible."

"While I know you won't agree, I'm glad you hear you say that."

"Why?"

"Because you're actually responding which is more than you were doing before."

"You were remembering."

That voice got his eyes open again. Gibbs. And Ducky. Both of them.

"Yeah," he said.

"And now?"

"My mind is going to shatter."

Tim sat up carefully and looked at them both. Then, he looked around and realized he was in his own bed. They hadn't moved him from his apartment.

"How long was I out?"

"It's been two hours since we got here," Ducky said.

He looked very worried.

"Oh."

"Timothy, why do this alone?"

"Had to," Tim said.

"No, you didn't," Gibbs said.

Tim found that he could smile a little.

"What were you going to do, Boss? Climb into my brain and help me manage the memories? Bully them into some kind of tolerable order? All that having people here would do is give an audience I didn't want." Tim closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

There was a long silence.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Tim asked.

"How much did you remember?"

"A lot. Too much. Once I started, I couldn't stop."

"Where did you start?"

"Kate. Being dead. Me seeing her all over the building until I finally went down to Autopsy to look at her dead body."

Tim forced his eyes open again and looked at Gibbs.

"You're the one who wanted me to remember all this stuff. Why are you complaining now?"

Gibbs actually smiled a little.

"We're not complaining, Timothy. We were simply worried about your state of mind."

"Well, I'm not ready to go back yet." Tim took another deep breath and let it out.

"Didn't think you would be," Gibbs said.

"Good. Because I'm not."

" _You're never going back. You're going to die here. The only question is how long it'll take for you to die. Until you tell us what we want to know, you'll live. Is that what you want?"_

 _He held up the wires and Tim whimpered. That was all he could manage._

" _We'll keep you alive. These things won't kill you. You'll live through everything we do to you. You don't deserve to escape it. Just think about what we've done already."_

"Tim, it's okay. You're not back there."

Tim was shaking and almost hyperventilating, but he wasn't still sitting on his own. Ducky was in front of him. Gibbs was holding him.

"Th-They s-s-said that...that they'd keep me alive, that I'd n-n-never get back, that..." The shakes took over and Tim couldn't speak at all.

"They were wrong, Timothy. You got back. You got away from them."

"The pain...they knew it wouldn't k-k-kill me, but knew that...that I...w-w-wanted it to. Didn't deserve it...to get away."

"You deserve to get away. I don't know how long it will take to get away from the memories, but you deserve it, and you will."

Tim wanted to cry, but he didn't. He hated the onslaught of bad memories when he'd had some of the good. It just made the bad seem even worse.

"Timothy, take a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Let's get you calmed down. Just breathe slowly and deeply."

Tim listened and tried to obey.

"Very good, Timothy. Just keep going."

After a few minutes, he looked at Ducky. Something was different. Not enough, not yet, but something was. Something inside himself was different.

"That's why I can't go back...yet."

"Yet?"

Tim nodded.

"Are you sure about that, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

"No. Do I have to be?"

Gibbs laughed a little.

"No."

"Good."

"Are you ready to leave?" Ducky asked.

Tim nodded and sat up again. He let Gibbs help him stand, but as they were walking toward the main room again, he stopped and looked around.

"Timothy?"

His clothes were here. His computer. His TV. His books.

 _My life is here or at least parts of it. I can't stay away._

"Timothy?"

He looked back at Gibbs and Ducky.

"What?" he asked.

"Are you all right?"

"No, but maybe I will be. I'm only going back to your place until I can get the power and water and everything turned on here."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to come back here...to live. This is my home."

"Yes, it is."

"Then, I'm going to live here."

"Are you sure you're ready to be alone?"

Now, for the first time in a long time, Tim felt a real genuine smile cross his lips.

"With therapy and all the people who will be coming here to check on me, I doubt I'll be spending much time alone."

Ducky laughed. "That much is true. ...but are you sure?"

"No, but I'm sure I'm ready to try it. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work."

They walked out of the apartment and Tim locked the door behind him.

"But I'm still not ready to go back to NCIS," he said.

"I still don't expect you to be," Gibbs said.

"Okay. As long as it's clear."

"It is."

Gibbs drove them both back to Ducky's place.

"What happened to your car, Ducky?" Tim asked.

"Jethro wasn't willing to take mine when he decided to check on you."

"Oh."

Gibbs let them off at Ducky's place and Tim walked in ahead of Ducky. He still felt really tired; so he went into the spare room and lay down.

He was supposed to meet with Dr. Taylor later, but he figured Ducky wouldn't let him forget it.

He slept.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky watched Tim walk inside.

"Well, Duck?"

"Still hard to say, but it is encouraging that he _wants_ to do this."

"So soon?"

"No, not so soon. It's been months since his escape."

"But if he only started remembering just today..."

"No, Jethro. He's been remembering the little things all along...and some big things. This was just his allowing more of the memories to become conscious. It makes sense that, as he does so, his memories will give him a firm ground from which to approach his life. Before, he said more than once that he felt like he was in a void. Then, with the only memories he had being those that were negative, from the time of his captivity, he had no guarantee of good memories existing, in spite of everyone telling him so. He was afraid of being overwhelmed by the good memories simply because of how the bad memories made him feel. Now, he's letting the memories in and finding that they _aren't_ like his memories of torture. That gives him confidence and strength because he's also remembering himself. It's not a void, now. There's substance."

Gibbs looked toward the house.

"Will it last?"

"I have no idea, but Timothy is conscious of the need to heal. He's not just jumping into it without thought. He knows he's not ready to go back."

"Yet."

Ducky smiled. "Exactly. He himself has now opened the door to the possibility. That means a lot more than you seem to be admitting. It will take time, but he's _giving_ it that time."

"What do we do?"

"We also need to be willing to give him time and let him come back at his own pace. I know that Director Vance has already made arrangements for that, if Timothy wants it. It appears he does."

"How long will this take?"

Ducky just shrugged.

"As long as it takes. And any amount of time is worth it."


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

Tim moved back into his own apartment after being with Ducky for about a week. As he had said, he wasn't alone much. He went back to Dr. Taylor for therapy...and people started dropping in. It helped because Tim wasn't seeing them in the context of NCIS. He was still avoiding going back to the building, but he did get to see the people who worked there. His memories weren't all back, but they were getting there, and he was less likely to have flashbacks or if he did, they were less like to be overly distressing.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Two months later..._

Tim was sitting at his typewriter. He wasn't working on a book. He was just typing his thoughts. It helped him work through everything.

There was a knock on the door. He didn't know who it would be, but he knew it would be someone from NCIS.

He got up and walked over.

"Timmy! Let me in!"

He opened the door.

"Abby. Aren't you supposed to be working?" he asked.

"Yes...but I was hoping that maybe you could help me. Maybe?"

Tim felt that all-too-common churning in his gut at the thought of going back to the NCIS building.

"I don't think I can do that, Abby. I don't want to..."

"No! I just mean here at your place. I have the laptop with me. Can you help?"

"Doing what? You know I'm not really...doing all that...right now. I mean...I barely even _remember_ doing it."

"This is a good chance to try it. I really just need another perspective on it. Please? Please?"

"Uh...okay. Sure. Come in."

He still felt a little uneasy around the NCIS people, especially when he was reminded that they _were_ NCIS people. It was a combination of remembering the torture he'd gone through and knowing that it was NCIS that had been the reason for it. The people who worked there were just another facet of all that. He knew it was a problem and he was working on it, but he hadn't conquered it yet.

Abby pulled a laptop out of her bag and set it up on the counter by the kitchen.

"Okay. The hard drive's been encrypted. I've been beating my brains out trying to figure it out, but I can't. I know you're not back working yet, but you always had such a great way of looking at things. I know you can at least show me something else to try."

It was funny, but Tim hadn't been using his computer very much. He had it, and he'd refamiliarized himself with how it worked. He'd even tried building one himself, just to see if he really remembered it, but other than that, he didn't spend much time on it. His typewriter was so much more meaningful to him.

But here was Abby, acting in a way that really was familiar to him. He knew that this was how she always was, and he also knew that this was probably as much for his sake (in her mind, at least) as it was for hers.

He sat down in front of the laptop and looked at it. At first, he just wanted to say that he had no idea what was going on and Abby would have to get someone else to help her.

Then, there was something in his head that said this was something he could handle. He started working through the encryption, and it felt so normal, so right. He knew what he was doing, his fingers remembered, his mind remembered how to think about these things. He had said that knowing was as important as remembering, and this was _knowing_.

So he worked on it, falling into a routine he hadn't even remembered he had. Abby started talking to him, making suggestions. There was nothing forced about it. It was...normal.

And they worked together, sitting at his kitchen counter, for almost two hours.

"That's it! Tim, you did it!"

He had. Tim was surprised that he'd managed to do _anything_ useful, let alone actually break the encryption.

"I did."

Abby wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I knew you could do it."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Abby, you'd better not have just been pretending to need my help."

"No! I would never do that!"

The eyebrow stayed up. "Abby, I may not remember everything, but I remember you."

"Okay, okay. So I would. But I didn't this time! Honest! I really did want your help. And see why? You figured it out!" Then, she hesitated. "Do you want to..."

"No. I don't. I'm not ready to go back there," Tim said, feeling his stomach twist again.

"I'm sorry, Tim. I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay. I just...I can't go back there."

Abby hugged him again.

"I won't push you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Abby. I promise. It's okay." Tim took a deep breath.

"I've got to get back. Thanks for your help, Tim."

"You're welcome."

Abby packed up and left the apartment. Tim watched her go and then walked back to his typewriter and sat down with a loud exhale. That had been hard and easy at the same time. He started to type.

 _I did work. NCIS work. Abby came over and wanted my help. I don't think she needed it, but she wanted it. I gave it, and I was surprised at how it all came back. Not memories, but skills. I haven't really been doing anything with my computer, but as soon as I started working, it made sense._

 _I never thought that coming back here would be so hard. I thought that, once I started remembering, I could go back to my life, just slide back into it. I can't. It's taking a lot of effort. It's really hard. I'm starting to want it, now. I guess that's an improvement, but just wanting it doesn't mean I have it._

Tim leaned back and sighed.

Was working on NCIS stuff a step in the right direction? He didn't know, but it was a step. What direction was still to come.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _One month later..._

Tony walked up to Tim's door and hesitated. Tim had been doing a few projects from his apartment, but he hadn't yet gone back to NCIS. They'd done a few things for him and with him, but there was still awkwardness, especially with Tony. There was just that lingering worry, and Tony hadn't yet figured out how to fix it.

He knocked.

After a few seconds, the door opened.

Tim looked surprised to see him, but then, Tony hadn't called or anything.

"Hey...Tony. I was...just going out to get some lunch. Um...do you want to come?"

"Oh...sure." That wasn't what he had expected. He knew that Tim wasn't going outside much.

"Okay. Just a minute." Tim went back in and then came out a few seconds later with his jacket and keys. "Dr. Taylor said that I need to get outside every day at least once...to reconnect with the world around me or something like that."

There was a forced nonchalance in his words, but Tony noticed that Tim wasn't really complaining about it. He was stating what he was supposed to do...and then, he was doing it.

"Are you driving?"

"Nope. Not yet. We decided that it was better if I didn't drive, and there are places in walking distance. It gets me out and walking. That all right with you?"

"Sure."

They started walking. In silence, at first.

"How's it going?" Tony asked, finally.

Tim shrugged. "It's going."

"Meaning?"

A slight smile. "Meaning that, no, I still don't remember everything. Yes, I remember you. No, I'm not back to normal. Yes, I'm aware of it. No, you don't have to like it. Yes, I'm still getting better. Am I missing anything?"

"I don't know, Tim. I don't even know what questions to ask, let alone whether or not I should ask any at all."

"You can, but you don't have to. It's a weird situation. I know that I'm not acting like the person you knew before, but I can't, Tony. I can't try to be him. I have to be me, and the person I am went through..." Tim stopped talking abruptly. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "That's going to affect who I am and how I act," he finished.

"I know. Are you coming back to NCIS?"

"I don't know. I can do the work, but... Tony, I haven't been able to go inside that building without having a flashback. Not once. Even if I can go back eventually, I definitely can't yet."

Tony wasn't sure where it came from, but after weeks and months of not making any jokes around Tim (and not wanting to), it just slipped out.

"Well, at least, you can set your own hours."

For a few seconds, Tim stared at him. Just long enough that Tony was about to apologize. Then, to Tony's distinct relief, Tim let out a chuckle.

"I guess there is a bright side."

"There's got to be something."

"I don't think there _has_ to be, but I guess there is."

They kept walking, and Tony could see how different Tim was. Part of it was the fact that he still didn't remember everything, although it was definitely better than it had been. A large part of it, though, was just what he had said himself. Six months of torture, followed by months of amnesia, followed by forcing himself to remember what he couldn't tolerate had all taken their toll on him. Tim was different and that would have to be accepted.

They got lunch, ate it at the restaurant and then started walking back. Just before they reached his apartment, Tim suddenly stopped.

"Hey, Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"You said before that if I ever needed a distraction that you had movies."

"Yeah?"

"I need a distraction. Any suggestions?"

Tony grinned. Now, he was on solid ground.

"What kind of movie do you want? Comedy? Scifi? War?"

"Not war. Nothing modern. I'm more in the mood for something older. Calmer."

"Ah, okay. You know what? If you'll trust me, I'll go home and grab a few."

Tim smiled. "Okay. I'll trust you. ...and that's contingent upon you not disappointing me with your movie choices."

For just a second, Tony was worried. Then, he noticed the twinkle in Tim's eye. It had been a _long_ time since Tim had made a joke. He laughed and saluted.

Then, he ran to his car and drove home to get some movies. At the last minute, he decided to grab a couple of the old Danny Kaye movies, along with some silly Westerns and a musical or two. Then, it was back to Tim's place.

He knocked on the door and Tim let him in.

"I come bearing...well, not gifts. These are mine, but movies!"

Tim looked at the pile.

"These are all yours? You actually own them?"

"Yes. When it comes to movies, I'll watch a lot of them."

"I guess so. I've never seen _The Court Jester_."

"Well, then, you are in for a treat because I just so happen to have brought it. If you're not trying to recite the 'chalice from the palace' and the 'pellet with the poison', I'm no judge at all."

"Well, with a recommendation like that, I guess I can't refuse."

Tony put the movie in and they settled down to watch.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony left pretty quickly after the movie was over, but it had been nice to sit with him and just watch something, not try and talk about the big stuff. Tim _had_ to think about the big stuff most of the time, and being able to avoid it for a couple of hours had been great.

Now, he walked over to his typewriter again.

 _Is it okay to forget about things for a while? I'm still trying to navigate between remembering things and forgetting them. I set all that aside while I was watching the movie. I don't think I ever understood why Tony liked watching movies until now. I can't bear the thought of playing those video games I used to play, but I still need a way to get away from it. This isn't it for me. I'm using the typewriter to think, not to relax._

Tim sat back and thought about it some more.

 _How will I get back to NCIS?_

 _Do I want to?_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Three weeks later..._

"How come I'm still afraid of NCIS?" Tim asked Dr. Taylor.

"You tell me, Tim."

Tim smiled. "I'm paying you to answer my questions."

"Actually, you're paying me to help, and if I determine that answering your questions wouldn't help, then, I wouldn't be earning my pay."

"Do you guys take classes on talking around your patients?"

"Nope. It comes naturally."

Tim laughed.

"Why _are_ you still afraid of NCIS? I'm assuming that it's the building itself because you told me that you're actually doing some work for them and you're hanging out with them. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I've had flashbacks every time I've gone in it. Every time. Why?"

"Because that was what they wanted. They wanted to know about the building. You're associating it with your captivity. It's understandable even if you don't like it."

"How do I _not_ do that? I feel like I'm just marking time, like I'm just...wasting the life I got back. I'm not doing anything worthwhile."

"That's not true, Tim. You're recovering from an extremely traumatic event. It was a severe trauma both physically and mentally. Half a year. It hasn't been that long since you started getting therapy for it. You shouldn't assume that you'll recover in less time than that. It may even be longer. You can't assume that it'll happen all at once."

"That's how it's been so far. Nothing or everything."

"I know, and I'm sorry that it has. You deserve an easier transition. It's just that we don't usually get to choose how those things work. I wish we did. Really, Tim, the way things are going now is how they should have been going before."

"What do you mean?"

"You're gradually taking things on. You're not diving headfirst into all the things you've forgotten. It's a process, not an instant. That's good."

"If I'm back here, I want to _be_ back," Tim said. "I don't want to be afraid of a building...but I am. I don't know how to _not_ be."

"We'll keep working on that."

Tim sighed. "I know it's better. I just still...don't feel quite right. There's still some of that dislocation. I don't know how to get rid of it."

"Part of that is just time. That feeling will fade so gradually that you won't even realize it. Part of it is learning to accept all the memories without letting them overwhelm you. The more you can engage with your past, the more you'll _feel_ instead of just remember."

"Can I have time off of all this? It's so hard."

"Of course you can, Tim. When it's too hard for you, take a step back. If you need to talk to me about it, you can. If you just need to escape for a little while, that's fine, too. Find something that makes it easier for you to deal with it. It doesn't have to be a huge thing. Just a little thing that lets you get away and then come back again. Are you still typing?"

Tim nodded.

"Good. You're helping yourself analyze by doing all that. It's a good thing. Just don't be afraid to back away from it if you need to."

Tim sighed. "How long will it take?"

"For what? Be specific. What is it that you want?"

"To be normal again."

"I don't know, but you have the time to figure it out. Don't squander that chance."


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

 _Two months later..._

It was early Monday morning. Vance had to get in and seize the day before it got away from him. He was always home on Sundays unless it was absolutely impossible and that made Mondays more hectic than they might have been otherwise.

So he was a little distracted as he headed in to NCIS.

"Director Vance? Sir?"

He stopped after a few steps and looked back.

"Agent McGee. I'm surprised to see you here."

Tim nodded.

"I was hoping to talk to you, but not inside the building. Could you? Just for a couple of minutes?"

Vance knew about Tim's continued difficulty with the NCIS building. He was thrilled that Tim was doing _some_ work, even if it was basically just from his home, but it was worth it to have his skills, and apparently, he'd remembered them because he _was_ helping.

"Of course. I have a few minutes to spare. What is it?"

"How long do I have?"

"Until what?"

"Until you can't hold my job for me anymore. I was...missing..." Tim paused and looked away and then back. "...for eight months. And even after that, I still left again. I'm back here, now, but I'm not really back. I can't...force myself back before I'm ready, but I know you can't wait forever, either. So...I... How long do I have?"

"Are you _wanting_ to come back, Agent McGee?" Vance asked.

"Most of the time, but not always."

"I can't give you a time frame. Right now, your leave is indefinite and that's fine. At some point, we'll have to revisit it, but at this point, there's nothing to worry about."

Tim smiled a little. "There _are_ things to worry about. I wish there weren't, but there are."

"I guess that's true, but your job isn't one of them. If you do decide you want to move on, I hope you'll let us know, but if you want to come back, you're welcome and we'd love to have you."

"Really?"

"Yes. Are you surprised?"

"Yes."

Vance felt his brow furrow just a little.

"Why would you be surprised by that?"

"Well, it seems like I'm a lot more trouble than I'm worth."

"Not a bit. Your actions saved countless people, Agent McGee. I regret what you had to go through, but if you want to continue to work here, I want you to be here. It's the least we can do."

He watched as Tim looked over his shoulder at the building. And what he saw convinced him that Tim would be coming back.

Longing. Tim _wanted_ to be there. He just couldn't manage it yet.

"When you're ready, let me know," Vance said.

"Okay."

"Now, I have some early meetings that I have to get to, but of all the things that you need to worry about, don't add your job to the list. Say the word when you're ready and we can ease you back into your team. You know that they want you back."

"Sometimes, I wonder."

"Don't."

"But they want who I _was_ back," Tim said. "Do they really want who I _am_?"

"Yes. I can say that without any hesitation. They want you back, as long as it's what you want."

Tim took another deep breath and then looked at the building again.

"Thank you, Director."

"Anytime."

Tim nodded and then walked away. Vance watched him go. It was like night and day, seeing Tim as he was now to how he'd been that last day at NCIS. Farther to go? Yes, but so much better.

Then, he looked at his watch. Things to do, but Vance had never been so glad to be delayed before.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

For the next few weeks, Tim went to the Yard every night. He would sit outside the NCIS building and look at it. A few times, he saw his teammates coming out and he made sure he wasn't visible to them. He would silently ask himself if he could handle going inside, and every time, the answer was no. He couldn't. He couldn't go inside the building that he had tried to protect. He would stare at the building for a couple of hours and then go home again. Over and over, trying to tell himself that he should just try it, but he couldn't bring himself to do so.

So he sat outside the building instead. He was at the point where he could almost talk about it without feeling like he would fall into the memory and not get out again. That didn't mean that immersing himself in the place he had tried so hard to forget would have the same result.

So he just sat there.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs was leaving NCIS, glad to be headed home. It had been a long day, even for him, and he was tired. As he stepped outside, he took a deep breath and looked around.

He saw someone sitting in Willard Park, and he thought he knew who it was.

So he changed his trajectory and crossed the street.

"Tim?"

The figure didn't move at first. It seemed that he was hoping that if he didn't acknowledge the name, Gibbs might just leave.

"Tim, I can tell it's you." That sounded like the kind of thing one would say to a little kid, and Gibbs hoped Tim didn't take it that way.

"Hi, Boss," Tim said softly.

Gibbs wouldn't admit it, but hearing Tim call him _Boss_ without any hesitation was a nice change from the awkward _Agent Gibbs_ he'd been using before. He sat down on the bench. Tim wouldn't look at him. He was obviously feeling embarrassed.

"What are you doing here?"

"Trying to go inside, but I don't want to feel it again."

"Maybe you won't."

"Yes, I will. I have every time."

"The last time wasn't as bad, was it?"

"Only because you stopped it."

"Tim, we couldn't stop them before," Gibbs said. "When they got really bad, we just had to wait for you to get out on your own. All I had to do was touch your arms and you came out of it."

Tim sighed. Gibbs had seen a lot of this in the months that Tim had been back here. He would take sudden leaps forward, like when he had finally opened himself up to his memories. Then, he would skid to a halt and dig in his heels, afraid to go further. Then, another leap. Then, another stop. It looked like he was stopping again...but might be ready to leap.

"Dr. Taylor says that I'm doing better. I know it's true, but there still that feel of...being disconnected. Even when I'm letting the memories in, it's still hard to really get all of them."

"What does Dr. Taylor say about that?"

"That part of it is because my mind is still trying to recover from the extremes and so anything that's _not_ extreme is going to feel like nothing. He said it was like getting a serious burn. After the burn, which really hurts, you don't feel the soft touches while the nerves heal. Once my mind heals, I'll feel more connected."

"Do you think he's right?"

"Yeah, probably. I mean, it makes sense. I just don't like feeling this way."

"That why you're coming here?"

"Every night, trying to tell myself to go in."

"Why do it alone?"

And this time, Tim didn't say anything about having to do it on his own or some other spurious reason.

"I'm embarrassed that I can't walk into a building."

Gibbs smiled a little. That figured. Tim was taking it as a sign of weakness that he couldn't come back already.

"I don't want people to see me like that. I want them to see me like a normal human being."

"Why?"

"Because that's what I want to be. I don't want to be the guy who got..." Tim paused and breathed deeply. "...tortured. I want to be Tim McGee."

"You are, and you will be for the people in the building, too."

Tim shook his head.

"Not really."

"Yes, really."

"Not if all I can do is have yet another meltdown."

"You don't know that you will."

"It's more likely than not."

"Come inside, now."

Tim shook his head. Gibbs knew why. Tim didn't want to be proven right. If he just refused, then, there was the hope that Gibbs was right and Tim was wrong. He was afraid that no amount of time would be enough to get him through what had happened to him.

Gibbs stood up.

"Come on."

Tim shook his head again.

"You've trusted me so far, Tim. You need to trust me some more."

"Not about this."

"Especially about this. Even if you have one this time, you can't expect to get over that if you stay away, dreading coming back."

Tim leaned his head on his hands, hiding his face from Gibbs.

"No."

Gibbs stifled a sigh. It wasn't really Tim's fault that this was happening. He sat down again.

"I get that you're scared. You have the right to be. But you don't _have_ to be."

"Well, I am," Tim whispered.

"The more you face it, the less power it will have."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've seen it myself. I just waited a lot longer than you."

"What if I have one this time?"

"Then, you try again another day, and I'll be there. Or Tony will. Or Ellie. Or Ducky. Anyone."

"I can't keep asking people to..."

"You're barely asking at all."

"I don't like being like this. I just don't know how to not."

"Then, get started. Now."

Gibbs stood up again. Tim looked up at him.

"Come on, Tim."

Tim took a deep breath and stood. He walked with Gibbs toward the building. Gibbs could feel the tension increasing.

"Relax," he said.

"Can't," Tim said.

"Try."

Another deep breath. Tim didn't want to go in, but he was doing it. Gibbs hoped that he wasn't pushing him too far, but since he'd been getting help, Tim hadn't been pushed too far by anyone, except maybe himself.

This time, Gibbs led Tim in through the front doors. They walked together.

"Welcome back, Agent McGee," Henry said. "It's nice to see you looking so well."

"Thanks...Henry," Tim said.

Henry smiled encouragingly at Tim as he passed them in. Henry had asked about Tim a lot in the time that he'd been back, and he clearly understood Tim's ambivalence. He didn't ask any questions.

Tim and Gibbs walked to the elevator. The one thing Gibbs wanted was for Tim to get in and out of the building without a flashback. If he could do it once, it would be more likely to happen again, but if he got him out of the building too quickly, Tim would realize what Gibbs would doing and that would defeat the purpose.

"How long do I stay in here?" Tim asked.

"As long as you need to."

"How long is that?"

Gibbs just smiled and pointed at Tim's desk. Tim walked over and sat down. Gibbs went to his own desk and sat down. He let the silence fall.

Tim looked around the space, not saying anything. Then, after a few minutes, he got up and walked over to a point in between Ellie's and Tony's desks. He looked around and then up. It seemed that he was looking up at the ceiling. To Gibbs' surprise Tim actually smiled as he stared up at the ceiling.

Whatever he was thinking, it was good. Gibbs didn't want that to be spoiled by another flashback to his time being tortured. He got up and walked over.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

Tim looked at him.

"Yeah."

Without trying to rush him, Gibbs directed Tim to the elevator. They went down and left the building. As they walked away, Gibbs looked at Tim.

"Well?"

Tim shrugged.

"Tim?"

"The day you added me to your team."

"Good day?"

"Mostly." Tim smiled a little. "It was really hot."

Gibbs chuckled. "Yeah."

Then, Tim's smile faded. "Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Putting me on your team? Did you ever think that you'd made a mistake?"

Gibbs could see that it was a real question and Tim didn't want a glib answer. He gave Tim the respect of considering what he asked. It didn't take long, but he did think about it.

"No. Never."

"Really?"

"Really."

"But I've made so many mistakes. There are so many times that I screwed up, that I didn't do what you wanted, that I _couldn't_ do what you asked. The memories have been coming back, Boss. I remember the times you gave me that look, the one that told me I'd disappointed you or not met your standards. I remember."

"So do I," Gibbs said.

"And you didn't ever think it was a mistake?"

"No, I didn't. Know why?"

"No. Not a clue."

Gibbs stopped Tim from walking, forced him to meet his gaze.

"Because I always knew that you wanted to be here. You proved you had the skills to be on my team before I made the transfer. If you hadn't, I wouldn't have done it."

"I really want to be back here," Tim confessed. "The more I remember, the more real it is, the more I _feel_ it. I don't want to give it up."

"Then, don't. You come back here and someone will be there to help you inside and outside. Every night."

"For how long, though?"

"As long as it takes."

Tim actually teared up a little, although he didn't start crying.

"Why would you all do this for me?" he asked.

"Because we want you back."

"Th-thanks, Boss," he said and swallowed hard.

Gibbs gave him a ride home, more certain than ever that Tim would make it back.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the next few months, they all alternated with getting Tim into and out of NCIS with as little stress as possible. He did have a few flashbacks, still, but they were much less frequent. Tim slowly gained confidence that he would be able to return to his job. It was slow going, and there would be a lot more steps before he was ready, but he was finally getting there, and the more he was there, the more he was with his team, the more he seemed like himself.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Six months later..._

It had been a long time, but Tim now felt secure enough in his life that he could think of something outside of it. So he picked up his phone and dialed.

" _Hello, this is Marilyn."_

"Hi, Marilyn. It's Tim."

" _Tim! It's been a long time since we heard from you. How are things going?"_

"Okay. They're...getting better. I'm sorry it's..."

" _No, no, don't apologize. You had your life to straighten out and we didn't expect to hear from you until you had. So have you?"_

"A lot of it, not all."

" _To be expected."_

"Is Kelly around?"

" _She's out in the barn, but I'll get her. Just hold on."_

Tim waited. For the first time in a long time, he could think about someone else's needs besides his own. He heard movement on the other end of the line.

" _Tim? It's Kelly."_

"Hi, Kelly."

" _You sound a lot better."_

"With two words?" Tim asked, smiling a little.

" _Yes. No hesitation."_

"How are things going for you?"

" _Good. I've decided that Paul is right and I've been trying to plan out too much. So, for now, I'm staying with my parents and working on the farm and not thinking about anything else. At least, not much."_

"You're going to stay, then?"

" _For now. Probably for a couple of years at the least. It feels a little strange to be living with my parents at my age, but I'm earning my keep. And you?"_

"I'm going back to my job."

" _That's wonderful, Tim. I'm so happy for you."_

"Thanks."

" _But if you ever want to take a vacation, you know that we'll be happy to have you."_

"I know. Thanks. And, Kelly, thank you for all the things you did for me. I haven't really had the chance to say that. Too many other problems, but I know that I leaned on you more than you probably wanted the weight."

" _Maybe, but I could bear it, and I was happy to."_

They talked for a few more minutes, but then, they both had to get back to their lives. Tim hung up, happy that he could hear contentment in Kelly's voice. Happiness? Maybe not yet, but she was finding her place, just as he was.

The wounds were slowly healing.


	49. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 _One year later..._

It had been a _long_ time coming. There had been so many little steps that Tim had lost track of how many he'd taken. Even now, things weren't the same. They never would be the same as they were, but he was at the stage where he could accept that.

This wasn't a full return, but it was a huge step.

One deep breath and Tim stepped inside NCIS. He walked over to Henry.

"Agent McGee, nice to see you in the morning instead of at night."

Tim smiled. "Thanks, Henry."

He pulled his ID and badge out of his pocket and showed it to him.

"Nice and shiny," Henry said.

"They're new," Tim said. "Never could find the old ones."

Henry nodded solemnly. "Sometimes, though, it's better to accept the new stuff than to hold on to the old anyway."

"Yeah. You're right."

Henry passed him in and Tim got on the elevator. As it rose, he thought about what he was doing, what he had done, and how much he could now appreciate _knowing_ those things. He tried to think about a different memory every night, savoring all the details he could recall. They weren't all happy memories, but they were all memories that made up who he was. That made many of them important. Some were silly. Some were happy. Some, sad. All of them were his.

The doors dinged open and Tim got off the elevator. He was here early, hoping to be at his desk before the others got there. He walked over and sat down.

He looked around his space.

Yes, this was right. This was where he should be. It would take time to be really easy here, but he was ready to work on it.

Then, he was no longer alone. Gibbs came striding in as he usually did. He paused when he saw Tim at his desk and he smiled.

"You ready?"

"I think so. It's only desk duty."

"It's not only. You need help. You ask for it."

"I will."

"Good." Then, Gibbs' expression softened a little. "It's good to have you back, Tim."

Tim smiled. "Thanks, Boss."

The elevator doors dinged again.

"No, Tony. I'm telling you that I am cursed when it comes to the weather. If I plan on doing something outside because it's beautiful and there's no rain in the forecast, there _will_ be a thunderstorm," Ellie said.

"Oh, come on, Bishop. You can't weasel out of it that... Tim! I didn't know you were back _today_."

Tony looked nothing short of thrilled.

"Thought it would be better to have a couple of days and then, the weekend off, in case I need it," Tim said.

"Excellent!"

"Desk duty?" Ellie asked.

"Yeah. Indefinitely, right now. We'll have to see how it goes."

"Great! I've never been able to figure out how to explain the computer stuff," she said.

"I never did, either," Tim said, and thought about all the times he could remember getting cut off in the middle or at the beginning of a computer explanation.

"Then, I'm glad you're here to not know what to do."

Tim laughed.

"Me, too."

Then, it was time to work. Tim knew that his workload was light right now, and he knew that he needed it that way. He had to ease his way back into the stress of being here, and he wasn't being given a free ride, either. Gibbs expected him to do his job. It was just that he was more understanding about what Tim _couldn't_ yet do.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We're celebrating, Tim," Tony said, in the evening. "No arguments. This weekend. Saturday night. Doesn't have to be big and loud, but we're going to have a party since you're back."

"Okay," Tim said. "Not big and loud."

"Okay. It won't be, but you might have to convince Abby of that."

Tim smiled. This felt so normal. So right.

He gathered up his stuff and headed out of the building.

"Tim?"

He turned back and saw Gibbs.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"How was it?"

"Good," Tim said.

"No problems?"

"There were some. I had some bad moments, but no flashbacks. It was a good day, Boss."

Gibbs nodded and headed on his way.

Tim paused before he walked to his car. He looked back at the building. He had paid a heavy price to protect it and the people working in it. He was finally at the point where he could say that, even if it wasn't _quite_ worth the price, he would still have paid it, if he had known the cost.

"And now, I'm back," he whispered.

With a nod, he headed home for the night.

FINIS!


End file.
